


The Nanny Named Stark

by starkind



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), The Nanny
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Nanny, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Batfamily Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Developing Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Dynamics, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Iron Bat - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, Mechanic Tony Stark, Same-Sex Marriage, Tony Angst, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 108
Words: 165,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: From his ex-boyfriend's car repair shop in Brooklyn over to a billionaire's posh estate in Gotham City, Tony Stark had never assumed his life would take such a 180° turn. Then again, neither had Bruce Wayne and his boys.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After binge-watching The Nanny and falling in love with its kookiness all over again, I decided to give this a try. Because the show is awesome, and this worked so well (in my head) even though it really, really shouldn't, lol. 
> 
> Since it's meant as a loving homage, some scenarios will be familiar, plot-wise. It might be a good idea to at least have a general idea of the original TV series to get the overall tone of this story, though it is not mandatory, imho.

Stupid Steve. Stupid cheating Steve.

On a warm day at the beginning of August, Tony yanked his duffel bag into the metro and dropped onto the next best seat not occupied with bubblegum or a drunken passenger. The end of their relationship felt like a bad dream. Although, no, actually it felt more like a living nightmare.

Steven Grant Rogers, man of Tony's dreams, fiancé of many years, and owner of a small automobile repair shop in Brooklyn, had gone and betrayed him behind his back with that moron he called he called his best friend from childhood, James 'Bucky' Barnes. Supposedly best friend Bucky Barnes had been overstepping his childhood-friend-boundaries when Tony caught them joined in places no best friends should ever be joined.

And so Anthony Edward Stark had packed all of what had been his and left Brooklyn behind.

New York City was his hometown, but Tony could not stand being that close to his painful memories anymore, which was why he was sitting on a train headed for... where was he going? Oh, right, Gotham City. Tony had never heard of that one before, but chances were good neither had Steve. Not that Steve was going to bother looking for him, he would be too busy shoving his tongue down Bucky's throat. Among other things.

Tony cast sad brown eyes out of the grimy tram windows and watched the scenery fly by.

Time for a fresh start.

+

“Alfred, please drive Damian to his fencing lesson at 5:30.”

“Of course, Sir. May I remind you that Master Richard also has gymnastics at 5:30 this afternoon?”

With a groan, Bruce Wayne looked up from his papers.

“Why haven't we found a suitable nanny by now? Aren't we hiring anymore?”

“That we are, Sir. However, the last two candidates for the position have left after Master Damian consequently pretended to be possessed by the devil, Master Tim spoke in nothing but Latin profanities, and Master Richard got caught swinging from the chandeliers in the dining room. The third one has not shown up so far.”

Bruce had to suppress a groan and a small smirk at his boys' shenanigans. He knew he needed to be more strict with them, but being a single parent was harder than anything he ever had attempted to do. Besides, Richard's and Tim's adoptions were finally through after a long and tiresome, legal period, and he did not want to jar their young minds any further.

Damian was his own flesh and blood, but sometimes Bruce suspected the genes of his mother were far too prominent. No child at the age of eight was supposed to be so fond of occult rituals and morbid hobbies like voodoo. Compared to him, Richard was a saint. He had just turned 15 and felt very much adult and grown up. His passion for acrobatics was something Bruce supported, for the most part.

He had drawn the line at free climbing outside of Wayne Manor after that one time involving a fire escape ladder and four huge fire department trucks in the driveway. Damian looked up to Richard but seemed to harbor a certain kind of spite for Tim, maybe because the 12-year-old was the easiest to handle of the three. He loved normal things like computer games, riding his BMX bike, and playing the drums.

The last hobby had made Bruce install a soundproof room.

Bruce Wayne -billionaire, eligible bachelor at the tender age of 30, and known in his hometown as the Prince of Gotham- rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Increase the pay, double the ads in the papers – I want to have somebody by the end of the month at the latest.” With his usual amount of dignity and patience, Alfred Pennyworth inclined his head.

“Certainly, Master Wayne.”

+

Gotham City was a shithole no thirty minutes in, Tony decided.

Someone had tried to nab his bag right after the train had passed an area called The Narrows and strange peers piled in. Pulling his baseball hat deeper into his face, Tony pressed his back against the hard plastic seat and eyed his fellow passengers. Two teenage girls with garish makeup and fishnet stockings. A man with a tattooed head and bad teeth glared back at him. Tony was quick to avert his gaze.

The woman to his left looked stoned to the brim. She was peeling out something from underneath her fingernails. With a shudder, Tony examined the passenger info system above her head. The next stop was called the Palisades. That somehow sounded less criminal. Just as a drunkard down the aisle began to curse in a loud, incensed way, Tony got up and pressed the door button as the train rolled to a stop.

As it turned out, civilization apparently had not informed Gotham's Palisades of its existence.

Tony found himself in the middle of nowhere, on a train station with only one platform, no ticket office and a single, sad looking park bank defaced by obscene graffiti. People from the Narrows probably hated the Palisades for exactly the same reasons. Since he had run out of money to buy another ticket back into the city center, he had no choice but to walk until he ran into the next best small village.

With an exasperated groan, Tony shouldered his bag and headed down the only road in sight. He thought he might even muster up enough courage to try and hitchhike without getting murdered, but even that option seemed illogical seeing there was no one around. After about an hour of idle strolling, a castle-like building loomed up in the distance. Tony exhaled in relief. “Bout friggin time.”

It took him yet another ten minutes of walking until he arrived at the huge main gates. As he stood and craned his neck to look up the imposing stone walls with its many windows, the heavy and ornamented wooden doors opened with a deep, creaking sound. An elderly, tall man with white hair who wore some sort of fancy uniform looked him up and down before he tilted his head.

“Are you the applicant for the position of the nanny?”

“Am I... yes, yes of course. Hi, Tony Stark, pleasure.”

“Do come inside, Sir.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this verse, Gotham City is kind of based on New Jersey, location-wise. The Palisades might, therefore, be located at a place called Saddle River, a wealthy neighborhood in NJ according to this source: 
> 
> https://www.thefinancialword.com/10-wealthiest-neighborhoods-in-new-jersey/2/
> 
> (also, I took some liberty with the age of the boys because this is totally, totally AU)


	2. Chapter 2

Tony was smart (and thirsty) enough to straight up ask for something to drink. Once the elderly man had disappeared, leaving him to wait in a large foyer, he quickly pulled out a pen and a crumpled piece of paper from his bag. One hastily scribbled-up resume later, the butler returned with his requested beverage and took his vitae. “I shall let Master Wayne know you are here. Please follow me.”

Sipping from a straw inside the glass of coke (that level of fancy bewildered Tony to no end), he got up, shouldered his bag, and trotted along. The butler took him into a huge salon that looked like a location taken right out of 'The Scarlet Pimpernel', Tony mused with a smirk. Again, he was left alone for another couple of minutes during which he pondered whether or not to try his luck for any hidden safe behind the paintings.

The door then opened and two boys strolled in with rather mistrusting expressions. Both had dark, near-black hair, and one was a few inches taller than the other. They remained standing at a distance, to which Tony got to his feet, spread his arms wide, and assumed a winsome smile. “S'up, fellas? Name's Tony. I'm from New York. You ever been to the Big Apple?”

Gurgling noises and scratches from somewhere nearby interrupted his introduction. It was then that the wooden closet in the corner sprang open and a small boy fell onto the carpet, covered in neon-green slime. Tony's left eyebrow quirked. The tallest boy then cleared his throat, drawing Tony's attention back to them. “I am Dick, that is Tim.” He pointed at the boy by his side who gave a sparse, cautious nod.

Not paying the writhing child on the floor any mind, Tony tapped a finger against his lips and eyed Dick with a thoughtful expression. “People truly call you Dick? You can't be serious, littleun.” Richard's big blue eyes darted from him down to Damian's choking form and back. “I, uh...” Tony shook his head. “No, Imma call you Rich. Until you turn 18, that's a better and actually far more accurate description for you.”

His eyes skimmed over the boy standing next to him. “So, who have we here? Timmy Timster, nice to meet you.” No reaction other than two very astute eyes sizing Tony up from top to bottom. Stark returned the stare only to snap his fingers in front of his face after another awkward ten seconds. “Cat got your tongue? Raised by wolves? Look alive there, will you.” Tim's little, serious face instantly twisted with anger.  
  
“Utinam Barbari Spatium Proprium Tuum Invadant.” [May barbarians invade your personal space]

Tony laughed out loud at that one. It baffled young Tim enough to actually jerk back when Stark bent down to lean in close to his face. “Vescere bracis meis.” [Eat my shorts] A slow, impressed smile spread out over Tim's face after he had translated the words to himself. Stark grinned. “Whoever teaches you pig Latin needs to step up their game, kiddo.”

Richard and Tim shared a mutual, knowing look, only interrupted by the ongoing, very vocal and physically demanding performance of their youngest down at their feet. Tony put his arms akimbo. “Now, do we need to perform an emergency exorcism, or is your gooey soul going to surrender to the devil soon?” More green glibber expelled from Damian's mouth. Unfazed, Stark took one step to the side.

“In any case, be a little careful with those sneakers here, Wednesday Addams, they're Y-3.”

At that, Damian stopped wheezing and spasming and sat up with a downright petulant expression. “I am not a girl.” At his high-pitched snarl, Tony pushed his baseball hat a few inches higher and regard him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, hey, it can speak - will you look at that. So, first thing on the agenda for you: Haircut.” Damian glared at him, though the idea seemed to entice him enough to scramble to his feet.

“Father said you are no nanny. Why are you pretending to be one?”

With a lazy scratch to the side of his bearded cheek, Tony put up a rather haughty expression. “One – because I can, and second – please tell me you're not actually calling your dad 'father'. Do you have a twisted Luke Skywalker complex I should know about?” Damian's expression changed to furious puzzlement while his elder brothers chuckled. “Damian doesn't know Star Wars.”

Those were the first words Tim had spoken in English, and they caused the small boy to cast him an evil glare. Tony tsked out loud. “And there we have the second topic for the agenda – mandatory movie night. Original trilogy only. And pizza. Lots of it.” At the prospect of fast food around Wayne Manor, all boys perked up.

“When?”

“Can we really?”

“Father will not allow this.”

A quietly cleared throat in the back made all of them turn around. Standing in the doorway was the butler, pleasant surprise at the current scene mirroring on his features. “Mister Stark, Master Wayne requests your presence to talk about the assignment and contractual obligations. He awaits you in his study.” Tony pulled a face. “What's with this all this airy-fairy jibber jabber?” Behind him, the boys sniggered.

The elder butler bestowed a stern expression on him to which Stark made a pacifying gesture. “Yeah, sure, study. Coming, coming. Don't get your panties in a twist.” He turned around to be met with three eager if a bit incredulous faces. “See you boys later. Oh, and if I were you, Diavolo, I wouldn't get that stuff close to my private parts. Heard it clings there and forever turns your Wiener into an ugly green tentacle.”

Damian's eyes turned wide as saucers. Without a word, he raced from the room and could be heard bolting up the stairs.  
Richard and Tim stared at him with dumbfounded looks until Tony gave a nonchalant shrug.  
“Worked like a charm.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Many endless corridors lined up with ancient paintings, vases, and thick carpeting later, Tony entered a comfortably sized office held in warm, decent colors. It was filled with thick books in ceiling-high shelves, a leather couch arrangement, and a massive, unlit fireplace in the corner.

A man in his early thirties sat at a large desk close to the window front. He had chestnut-brown hair that was coiffed into a conservative side-part, wore no beard but a pair of minimalist glasses instead, and was dressed like Tony would suspect any wealthy gentleman at the age of 65 would. Classy, but boring. “Mister,” The man looked down at the document in his hand, and Tony recognized his CV. “Stark.”

“Yup, that's me.” Tony tipped the brim of his baseball hat in greeting before he stepped forward with a huge smile and extended an arm. Years of getting them dirty inside carburetors and engine blocks had eventually made him get over his aversion of shaking people's hands. No use being a mechanic if you could not get over being a miserable germaphobe. “Thanks for the opportunity. Appreciate it.”

Wayne stood up to walk around the desk and shake his hand, albeit with skepticism written all over his face. He was taller than Tony by two, maybe three inches and, from what Tony could make out under the brown grandpa argyle sweater and pleated corduroy pants, surprisingly athletic. “It states here you have spent a significant amount of time in,” he squinted at Tony's chicken scratch. “A broke state.”

Tony mimicked his confusion and leaned in close to peek at his vitae.

“Wha-? Oh, nonono, that's supposed to read Brooklyn. Though, being in a broke state is something I am familiar with as well, haha.” Wayne glimpsed back up at him, his face all serious. Despite the glasses, Tony could see his eyes were a peculiar swirl of green sprinkled with hazel. “In any case, it is a very unusual way of changing career paths, going from mechanics to the education of children.”

Tony shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and bounced back and forth on heels and toes. “Well, you gotta expand your horizon a little bit there, no? I mean, I've just turned 32 a couple of months ago and thought to myself – is this the life I wanna live? Cars are nice, but I am a person's person, you know? I need interaction with people on a daily basis. And your boys seem kinda fun.”

Bruce could not help but glimpse over to where Alfred tried hard not to erupt in a bout of merry laughter. To distract himself, Wayne turned the paper around in search of more information. There was none, so he skimmed over the handwritten lines one more time. “Is this an official Apostille?” Again, Tony leaned forward to check the passage Wayne pointed at. “Oh, no, that's just motor grease. Looks like one, though.”

Another choked cough from behind. Wayne nevertheless kept a straight face and cleared his throat. “If you take on this position, it means working and living here at Wayne Manor. You will have a 50-hours, seven-day workweek, but are free to spend the time in between obligations however you wish. You are entitled to 15 days of paid annual leave, provided they do not collide with the family's timetable or schedule.”

Tony blinked at him like an owl. When he did not protest or ask further questions, Wayne put his CV back on his desk. “You will get an hourly rate of $ 20, no overtime bonuses. You are entitled to both medical and dental plans as well as vision insurance.” At that, Tony gave a bold whistle.

“Whoa, you're really desperate, huh?”  
Wayne's thinnish lips stretched into a forced smile.  
“Do you want the job or not?”  
  
Tony countered with a Cheshire cat grin.  
“Yeah, sure, let's do this. Why not.”  
He was about to initiate a high five but tamed it down just in time for them to shake hands again.  
  
“Congratulations Mister Stark, you are hired.”

Jackpot, Tony thought and inwardly fist-pumped to himself. He was going to get free food, accommodation, and live all the amenities of a rich aristocrat's life. This was even better than his plan b, which consisted of walking around looking for a job as a mechanic, or dishwasher, or both.

+

After saying goodbye to Wayne, Alfred the butler (Tony had already forgotten his last name. It was something hilarious like 'Petuniawobble' or other) led him through a myriad of rooms and hallways, pointing toward and explaining things that Tony forgot the instant they rounded yet another corner.

“You will be responsible for bringing the young Sirs to school or any other leisure activities, and you will pick them up once they are done. Master Wayne's very own private fleet will offer suitable transportation. Follow me to get acquainted with the technical details of the coded garage.”

The butler ushered him into an elevator and pressed the button on a metal panel that read -1. “As of today, Master Damian needs to be taken to his weekly fencing classes in Uptown in less than two and a half hours. The address, just like all other relevant destinations, is programmed into the navigation systems of each vehicle. The keys are locked. The code for the safe is 190275.”

It was then that the elevator stopped with a soft ding. When the doors opened, the motion-controlled overhead lamps went off and drenched the scene into bright, industrial lighting. Tony inhaled deep and took in the familiar smell of oil wiped exteriors, distant petrol, new tires, and car polish. At the sight of a dozen super cars, luxury SUVs, and classic roadsters, his grin then turned downright feral.

“Well, helloooo there, beautiful.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mister Wayne's outfit inspired by this:  
> http://images.neimanmarcus.com/ca/1/products/mb/NM-2QCV_mb.jpg
> 
> Bruce's glasses might look like these:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/236x/e9/f1/18/e9f118c07b8359047fdf0ee169fa3836--designer-eyeglasses-mens-eyewear.jpg
> 
> Thanks @ black_queen for inspiring me to benefit from/feed into this 'glasses-headcanon' every once in a while :)


	4. Chapter 4

Once the butler had shown him his private quarters in the adjacent wing close to the boys' individual bedrooms, Tony had time to freshen up and eat a little snack. At 5 pm sharp, Tony Stark and Damian Wayne then walked out to where Tony had already seen to park up his chosen escort vehicle. Dressed in a leather jacket, ripped denims, and high-top sneakers, he opened the vertical passenger door of the roadster.

“Your carriage awaits, Mylord.”  
Tony made a dramatic bowing motion to which Damian crossed thin arms and stared at him with all of his youthful disdain.  
“This is father's car.”  
  
Impatient, Tony made a shooing gesture.  
“They all are, but this one's an especially lovely ride.”  
The boy did not move, his scowl deepening.

“You are not allowed to use this one.”  
Nanny Stark made a highly improper noise with his mouth and tongue.  
“I so am. Cheer up you little Hades and move your heinie, we don't wanna be late and I can't wait to floor this baby.”

Still glowering, Damian scrambled into the passenger seat and Tony closed the door behind him. The boy was back to sitting with folded arms when Tony slipped in next to him with barely contained excitement. “It's just a car.” Stark's palms stroked over the fine leather of the steering wheel with awed reverence. “Wait till you turn older. This is a chick magnet.” The boy scrunched up his little face. “I don't care for chicks.”

“Thankfully not, so I don't have to deal with your raging hormones for the next coupl'a years.” Tony buckled up and turned the ignition to which the Lamborghini Murciélago sprang to life with a deep purr. He grinned. “Ohhh yeah. Imma go flooring it once I dropped you off at your ballet class.” Damian's brows furrowed. “It's fencing, and I am going to tell father you're unqualified to do your job.” At that, Stark raised his chin and tutted.

“But who would take you to your fancy-schmancy lessons then, huh? Don't tell me you've ever seen that Jeeves open throttle and listen to these schweet V12 engine sounds?” Tony dipped his foot low to prove his point. Damian stared ahead at the middle console of the Lamborghini, deep in thought. Eventually, his frown lessened. “No. Alfred always takes one of the limousines and never goes faster than 45.”

“Do you want to?”

“What?”

“Go faster than 45?”  
  
The nod the boy gave was eager. Once he realized it, he attempted to look indifferent.  
  
“If you must.”

“On one condition, aristobrat. You snitch, you ride in the backseat - now and forever.”

“This car doesn't have a backseat.”

“Exactly.”

With a diabolical wiggle of his eyebrows, Tony grinned down at his stupefied little passenger. After a solemn pause, Damian finally inclined his head. “I am not going to tell father, or Alfred.” Stark made a spitting sound and gesture into his right palm and held it out for the boy to grasp. It was not without an initial grimace of disgust that the boy mimicked his actions and took it.

Tony then fished for a pair of aviator shades from his pocket and slipped them on. “Good boy. Now buckle up tight, it's about to get a li'l airy in here.” The Murciélago roared out loud and surged ahead two seconds later. Little Wayne clawed his hands left and right into the seat but said nothing. They did 85 on a straight and deserted strip of the highway until both of them were grinning like loons.

When the Lamborghini rolled up at the traditional Gotham fencing club, people turned their heads at the peculiar sight and sound.

With an agile move, Tony hopped over the closed door and jogged around the Lamborghini to open the door for his cargo with the wind-swept hair. “I'll be back in an hour. Behave, Demon.” The other students of Damian's class kept on casting confused glances over to where the strange man then leaned against the sports car, thumbs hooked into his jeans, crossed his ankles, and chewed gum.

Damian turned around, too, and Tony threw him a victory sign as he snapped a bright-red bubble with a clack.

The youngest Wayne heir entered his fencing class with an even more supercilious expression than usual.  
  
+

A forceful bang on his study's door made Bruce jerk out of his thoughts. Thoughts that had been focused on a dreadful calculation of the latest forecast he had to deliver to the board of Wayne Enterprises next week. A forecast which was not going to earn him a lot of supporters. Again. But that was nothing new. Before he was able to tell the person to come in, the door sprang open and Tony Stark strutted in.

“Evening, Mister W.”

In a brazen move, he hopped upon the corner of Bruce's large mahogany desk. Part of Bruce's mind wondered how those tight, fashionably ripped denims Stark wore did not give in to temptation and fell completely apart at the seams. There likely was a lot of stretch material involved. Stark cleared his throat.

“Just wanted to let you know before you'll hear from anyone else. I took the Lambo for a spin cause Damian was already late for his watchamacallit, and...” Fingers clenched around a Mont Blanc pen. “And what?” Stark pulled a lopsided grimace and shifted. Paper crunched under him in protest.

“Well, there might or might not be a couple of speeding tickets coming your way. In all fairness, that only happened after I've dropped the little critter off. I'd never actually speed with a kid on board. Safety first and all that, y'know?” Bruce placed the expensive pen aside and adjusted his glasses. “Did you just call my son a critter?” Unfazed, Tony leaned back on one elbow, giving Bruce an excellent view on his denim-clad crotch area.

“He keeps on wanting to be called Lord of the Underworld, but I told him that's quite a mouthful.”

From where Bruce was staring at a strip of tanned skin from Stark's muscled thigh, he forced himself to look up with a stern expression. “Any fine will be deduced from your monthly salary. I do not wish for a repeated performance.” Stark made a sound much like the ones Bruce was used from his teenage sons. “Aww, man. One month without money is straight up cruel. I just started working.”

“Even worse you've already let it come this far. Besides, you get remunerated far above the actual speeding fine.”

“Ah, but you don't know how many tickets are coming in.”  
With an exasperated motion, Bruce took off his spectacles and raised his chin.  
“If this incident is going to cause any bigger problems, then...”

The intercom on Wayne's land line phone came to life with a soft crackle and a blink.  
“Commissioner Gordon on line two, Sir.”  
Stark wore a true 'saved by the bell' expression as he slid off the desk with a cheeky wink and grin.

“Oh, by the way. You look far more handsome without glasses. Younger, too. Just saying. Toodles.”

The door slammed shut with an audible bang. Once hurricane Stark had left the room, Bruce forced the toes inside his loafers to uncurl. He leaned back in his chesterfield chair with a soft creak and massaged the bridge of his nose. His glasses still rested on the table and he frowned at them.

Did that impossible man just attempt to flirt with him?

Bruce squinted at nothing in particular, fingers twirling the slim titanium frame around for the longest time. His gaze unwillingly landed upon the place Stark had vacated. The papers he had been sitting upon now held a distinct tinge of indigo blue in form of Stark's butt cheeks.

Too bad they had been important documents about a new rental lease between Wayne Medical and Lex Corp, Bruce's most abhorred corporate rival, and the reason for his latest bout of gastritis. At the irony of it, Bruce slipped them into the bottom drawer of his desk and rubbed his face. Luthor could wait. He reached out, grabbed the receiver, and pressed the blinking button to take the dreaded call.

“Wayne speaking. Good evening, Commissioner.”

By the end of the five-minute-tirade that launched without warning, the corners of Bruce's mouth had turned south. It was only thanks to his promise of a hearty charity sum for the upcoming GCPD officers' gala, and his even heartier promise to never let that happen again that Stark was able to keep his license. Once the call had ended, the billionaire sat, chest heaving, and glared at the phone as if it was the culprit in question.  
  
45 miles over the posted speeding limit.  
A $2,500 penalty.  
Needless to say, Wayne was fuming.

It was time to show Stark who was the boss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the right Lambo color, but this is how I picture part of Damian's ride:  
> https://youtu.be/kMpj_U_M4Fs?t=4


	5. Chapter 5

An upbeat version of 'Proud Mary' blasted through the Manor's vast corridors. Aghast, Bruce Wayne went to determine its source and found the culprit in form of none other than Tony Stark. The man was bouncing through his quarters wearing a tight white tank top and an even tighter pair of gray track pants. In between doing some sort of martial arts motions against an invisible enemy, he was singing along.

 _Left a good job in the city_  
_Working for the man every night and day_  
_And I never lost one minute of sleeping_  
  
_Worrying 'bout the way things might've been_

 _Big wheel keep on turning_  
_Proud Mary keep on burning_  
_Rolling, rolling, rolling on the river_

“Mister Stark!”  
Nothing. Left to stare at the swaying, ample butt and its unmindful owner, Bruce gritted his teeth.  
“MISTER STARK!”

Just then, Stark executed a smooth spin and half-twist and came face to face with his employer. His face split into a beatific wide grin. “Uh, hi!” He kept on bopping to the chorus. Bruce frowned. “Turn it off.” Stark put a hand to his ear and leaned forward. “Huh?” A vein on Bruce's left temple began to throb. He opened his mouth to inhale and repeat his order in a more audible way, but Stark beat him to it.

He fished some sort of device from his pockets and pressed a button. Instant silence filled the room. Bruce's eyes narrowed at the foreign, technical item. “What is that? Where did you get this?” Stark looked down at it as if seeing it for the first time.

“Oh, it's mine. I built it. Easier to have things on remote in this crib. I mean, who's gonna sprint all the way upstairs to close the windows if it starts to rain? And boy does it rain a lot around here – twice! on our way home. I honestly didn't expect I need so much Goretex in my wardrobe, and speaking of which, can I order at Amazon or don't they ship out here, because...”

“Mister STARK!”

“Yeah?”

“You were doing 90 on a 45 mph road!”

“95.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You do realize this has been your first day, and that you are on probation. If I find you to be a hazard to the lives of my children or any other innocent people, I cannot condone to employ you.” His thundered out threat made Stark at least look a trifle more contrite. Emphasis on trifle.

“Heyheyhey now, this is really cutting way too deep into Debbie Downer category. First of all, I told ya I'd never risk a kid's life, and second, it was an unpopulated strip of the road, I mean come on – no one lives out here but you. Squirrels maybe, but they are fast. The Lambo basically begged me for it. Such a car needs to be pushed to the limit - coming from a guy who's good with cars. Hey, I could become your car pool nanny, too!”

Bruce decided Stark's motormouth was going to give him a nice migraine in addition to his gastritis.  
  
“I hereby forbid you to take the Lamborghini for a ride in the foreseeable future.”  
Tony behaved all understanding and demure until Wayne had left his quarters.  
“Been wanting to try out that Bugatti anyhow.”  
  
+

Two days later, a solid rhythm greeted Bruce upon entering his son's designated drums' room over at the guest wing of Wayne Manor. Much to his surprise, Tony Stark was also present. He sat on a chair backward, one arm propped up on the backrest to support his head, and listened along. Behind the huge set of drums, a red-faced Tim was hitting the mounted toms and the snare with vigor.

Upon seeing Wayne in the doorway, Tony made a tempering gesture towards the boy. Tim obliged and held onto the snare with two fingers to stop its reverb. He used his free arm to wipe over his forehead. Tony eyed his employer. "We're practicing Black Sabbath. Bill Ward nails it in Sweet Leaf. Timmy here's more of a death metal guy, but there's some classic rock stuff that he needs to know."

Bruce glanced from his heaving son back to Stark who had curled a fist under his chin and regarded him with an eager look.

"Well, that is... good."  
Upon his meager reaction, Stark actually rolled his eyes at him. Bruce frowned.  
"Mister Stark, can I speak to you for a moment?"

Tony slapped the backrest of the chair and stood up. "Course." He wore a black t-shirt with some sort of flight mask that had 'Black Sabbath' written above. They stepped out, but not without Tony instructing Tim to listen to the original song one more time and to especially focus on the part starting from 02:35. Once the door had closed behind them, Bruce squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back.

"I appreciate you trying to steer Tim's passion into a more refined direction, but it is more important for him to focus on his rather mediocre performance at school." Tony, who had been regarding the other man in his navy blue suit, white shirt and burgundy tie, narrowed his eyes and shoved his palms flat into the back pockets of his faded black, destroyed skinny jeans.

"Sure, but you do know that all work and no play makes Timmy a dull boy." Wayne opened his mouth to protest, but Tony was quick to free one hand and hold it up in between them. "I know, I know, business before pleasure and all that jazz, but I think he's really got potential. And hey, if he doesn't want to inherit his father's business, he at least can go and become a drummer in a famous rock band!”

Wayne's lips near vanished as he pressed them together for a second. "That's just what we need." He then shook his head, though more to himself, and cleared his throat. "Anyway, I want you to take the boys into town, Richard needs a new coat for the winter, Tim's shoes have also exceeded their expiry date, and..."

"... and Dami needs a haircut."  
A knowing smirk flitted across Wayne's even features.  
"Matter of fact yes, but his clothes are priority today."

The Gothamite reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim, minimalist wallet. "I have added you as an authorized user to this account. I don't have to mention for you to use it responsibly, do I?" All winsome, Tony took the proffered credit card and held it in between index and middle finger.

"Responsibly is basically my middle name. Tony Responsibly Stark.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tina Turner's take on "Proud Mary" (Jive version)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21HuGPN-FEE
> 
> Black Sabbath's Sweet Leaf sounds like this (drum track only)  
> https://youtu.be/XAef8k8cYm0?t=119
> 
> ... and of course, the legendary t-shirt everyone knows from The Avengers gets an honorable mention as well:  
> http://i.ebayimg.com/images/i/160883905317-0-1/s-l1000.jpg


	6. Chapter 6

Out of habit, Alfred offered to drive the four of them downtown, but Tony declined. "Nah. It's Hummer time!" He had been eying the big black H2 luxury SUV in the corner of the garage ever since he had first spotted it in the car pool. Pennyworth relented with a sigh and watched him feed the navigation system with the address in question. "Very well, Sir. Kindly be back before supper."

Jamming a piece of chewing gum in between his teeth, Tony nodded down at him from the open window of the driver's seat. He then craned his neck to look at the two attentive faces in the back, seeing Richard had chosen to ride in the passenger seat. "Ready, boys?" A collective nod and Tony turned the keys to let the engine roar. Gravel spit left and right as they headed off towards Gotham's shopping district.

The navigation system got thrown off kilter when Tony decided to take the Hummer on an off-road test ride across some uninhibited acres of the Palisades. There, he made all of the boys squeal and giggle out loud when the SUV went up on a 60° vertical slope until all they were seeing was the sky outside the windshield.

When they were finally in town, waiting in line to get access to the parking garage, Tony turned to Richard. "Where do you usually do your shopping?" The boy shrugged. "Dad lets a tailor come by for most of the stuff." Upon Tony's frown, Tim leaned forward from the backseat. "We've been to Burberry once." A harrumph from the youngest in the car. "And it sucked. Bad enough we have to wear uniforms at school."

With a contemplative expression, Tony drummed his fingers against the wheel. Two more cars were in front of them. "Okay, here's what. Burberry first, fun stuff later. Does this place have Starbucks?” Richard negated. Tony pulled a face. “Coffee Bean? Dunkin Donuts?” Each question produced a shake of a head. Stark tilted his head back. “What kind of crappy shopping mall is this?” Again, Tim leaned in.

“There's a Slush Puppies vendor on the first floor.”  
Tony pondered that option until the gate arm opened.  
“That'll do.”

+

When Richard's tongue was sufficiently green with artificial apple slush, Tim was sporting blue teeth from cotton candy flavor, and Tony and Damian both suffered from mild brain freeze after slurping their sour grape drinks too fast, they ventured out into the many stores and shops. At some point, Tim offered to take Damian along to the restrooms, and Tony made Richard try on some stylish hoodie sweaters and shirts.

The youngster stood admiring himself in the mirror outside the cabin for the longest time until he slipped back into the small changing room and yanked the curtain shut. "Oh, no!" At his muffled exclamation, Tony stopped browsing through a batch of t-shirts with geeky prints. "What's wrong?" The curtain wobbled a little. “Barbara Gordon. She's in my history class. I don't want her to see me with my babysitter and brothers."

A shrewd grin crept up on Tony's countenance. "You like her." At his cooing voice, Richard's adolescent voice cracked. "NO!" Stark poked his head in. "C'mon let's say hi. She's looking over just now, and – hi there!” Looking over his shoulder, Tony then pulled the curtain wide open and waved. Beet-red in the face, Richard ducked back into the changing room and nearly tore off the innocent piece of fabric.

By the time his skin had returned to a normal color, Tony Stark was making amicable conversation with the redhead. Barbara Gordon threw Richard a brief glance before looking back up at Tony. “I always wanted to go to New York, but dad would never let me.” The dimples on Tony's cheeks became visible. “I could take you along, pumpkin. How about this: Once the boys and I are planning a trip, Imma go give you a call.”

She blushed and revealed a shy smile full of brackets. Tony then motioned for Richard to come closer. “Hey, champ, Babs here just said she's gonna come along to the Big Apple with us next time. Okay?” All awkward, Richard just nodded in between stealing glances at the red-haired girl. “Sure.” Barbara smiled. “I gotta go. Nice meeting you, Tony.” Her eyes flew to the boy on the side. “See you on Monday, Dick.”

A wave and she hurried back to where her girlfriends were already waiting for her with their shopping bags at the store's entrance.  
Stark slapped his young protege's shoulder and shook him out of his stupor.  
“Too bad you're too young for the joke that basically begs to be made. But she wants it, kiddo. Your company, I mean.”

+

Chatter from outside the dining room made Bruce look up from the business magazine he was browsing through. The aromatic smell of roast beef hung in the air as Alfred was busy putting the final touches to the meal. More laughter erupted, then the door sprang open and in bustled three young boys, all dressed up in colorful athletic wear of the expensive kind, looking thoroughly content.

Bruce's aghast stare traveled from one to the other, taking in Richard's shiny gray, quilted vest over a neon orange long-sleeved shirt, Tim's harem-style sweatpants in khaki and his new, bright white sneakers, and Damian's flashy red sweater which read 'DUDE' in bold, black letters. Behind them, Tony Stark strolled in with a thoroughly pleased look on his face.

Wayne kept on staring at the spiky hairdo of his youngest son for the longest time before he found his voice. "What have you done?" Stark ushered all of them to sit down before he plopped onto the vacant chair to Bruce's right. "Given the boys an ID. And Dami wanted a fauxhawk. I think it looks cool." Said boy scrambled onto his chair and squinted at him with a serious expression. "No, you said it looks friggin' kick-ass."

Upon the withering stare from his employer, Tony was quick to wave him off with the napkin he had just unfolded. "Hush now, where did you pick up such crude language?" Food arrived and took the edge off the situation for a moment. Wayne Sr. regarded his rosy-cheeked kids as they began eating and bickering amicably about their new clothes and haircuts. At some point, Damian then put his fork down and pulled a face.

“Alfred, this steak is tough.” Tony looked up from his plate. "So’s life, dude. And then you die.” Bruce was about to interfere when his son saw Stark's disapproving glance and continued to eat without complaint. Wayne cast Stark a glimpse and saw the other man give a shrug and grin combo. The rest of the dinner went peaceful until Alfred discovered the twenty large shopping bags inside the Hummer.

+

The next day, around 10 am, Bruce walked from his room into the kitchen to get another cup of coffee when he encountered a strange conversation down the hall. “I hate you!” Richard stormed past him slamming the door shut. Bruce glowered at a miserable looking Tony Stark. “What have you done?” Stark rubbed at his nape. “We met this girl Richie's into yesterday, and I invited her to a NY trip someday.”

Wayne looked at him.  
“That's no reason to hate you.”  
Tony gave a lopsided smirk.  
  
“I know. And she even texted him this morning on her own accord.”  
The billionaire now looked puzzled.  
“Even better.”  
  
The shorter man palmed his face.  
  
“She asked him for my number.”  
  
For a moment, Bruce Wayne actually looked like he pondered whether to get away with pushing Stark down the stairs and tell the police it was an accident or not. Tony inched closer to the safety of the banister just to make sure. Wayne then put his arms akimbo, stretching his morning robe open wide over his chest.  
  
“You are going to rectify this situation!”  
Tony fingered his collar.  
“Wow, sounds painful.”  
  
Standing in front of Richard's door minutes later, Tony gave a tentative knock and got an instant reaction.  
  
"GO AWAY!”

“Not as long as you're mad at me.”

“You'll be standing there forever then!”

“I ain't gonna be this handsome forever, and we have to make use of my beauty to hash out a plan.”

Silence on the other side. Tony figured he could have used a better argument with a teenage boy at the height of his insecure puberty. “It involves you, Babs, the movies, and an unreliable, despicable me.” After another ten, long seconds, the door unlocked. Richard glowered at him with an intensity that made Tony wonder if he truly was adopted after all.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
+

When Bruce ran into his nanny two hours later, he had just finished a grueling workout at his private gym. Stark's eyebrows rose as he spotted him in his sleeveless shirt and track shorts, and Bruce slung the towel around his bare shoulders. He cleared his throat and steered the other man's eyes back to his face.

“Any news on the situation?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, we cleared things up pretty quick.”

“How so?”

“I asked her out to go to the movies with me.”

“Mister Stark!”

“Nonono, wait, it was all a sham. You see, Rich gave me her number, and I fixed a date for this afternoon. Only I will not show up, but who will?” Bruce squinted at him hard. Tony figured it was because he, for once, did not wear his glasses. “Yep, Richie of course. And they'll enjoy the movie and I am the bad guy.” Wayne let his outlandish plan sink in and crossed his arms. Face still stoic, he eventually nodded.  
  
“Let this be a lesson to you to not interfere with such matters again.”  
Stark spread his arms open wide with a mock-hurt expression.  
“Hey, it's not my fault I'm irresistible. By the way, coupl'a great guns, Mister W. What's your secret?”

“Throwing nosy nannies from the Manor's roof.”

“Ah.”

Wayne then turned and walked down the corridor into the opposite direction. A very low whistle followed him down the aisle and he stopped and glared over his shoulder. Tony stood, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and regarded him with a cocky, if a bit thoughtful expression. His face then lit up. “You must've had a lot of fat or slow nannies. Your legs do look like they could use a bit of extra work.”  
  
Bruce made a move to go after him, to which Stark hurried to dash around the corner.

 


	7. Chapter 7

It was Tony's fifth week at the Waynes. With a pang of guilt he realized he had not spoken to his friends back in New York ever since his clandestine departure. Once the boys were off to school, Bruce Wayne had left for work, and Alfred Pennyworth was out grocery shopping, Tony made a call.

His best friend James Rhodes chewed him out for a good five minutes before going into another ten-minute rant about all the happenings since Tony's departure. Said man listened to the New Yorker gossip with rapt attention until Rhodes demanded to know details about his whereabouts.

“Oh, you wouldn't believe where I am, Rhodey. Guess. No, guess again. Nah, you'll never find out.” With a smug, self-content smile, Tony sprawled out on the chaise lounge of the old, main library of the Manor. “Gotham City. _Gotham._ G-O-T-... never mind." For a while, Rhodey talked and asked so many questions about Tony's current job, living conditions and future, that the latter became slightly evasive.

“I... well, I... met someone special. Kinda. And I moved in with him. Yeah. No. I know.” 

By now, Tony's self-content stance had evaporated and turned into a cower. “I don't care what Steve says – he didn't catch _me_ with _your_ face buried deep down my... ah, whatever.” It was then that Rhodes came to a, for him, logical decision. “You want what!?” Tony sat up straight. “No, you can't! I mean, it's all a little fresh still, and I don't know... he's a very reserved and reticent person.”

Once he had hung up, Tony flung himself head-first into the cushions and groaned. Rhodey wanted to visit him in Gotham. Together with Happy and Pepper. They wanted to know why he had gone away to live with a reclusive billionaire all of a sudden, and why he failed to inform them about this grave change. It was not that he did not want to see them; only Tony had also failed to mention his current profession.

Turning his head, Tony regarded the huge oil-on-canvas portrait of Bruce Wayne and his three sons above the unlit fireplace. Bruce Wayne sat in a wing chair, Richard behind him, Tim to his right and Damian on his left. Their varnished expressions looked nothing like them and more like seriously grotesque masks. Tony blew out a huge breath through half-opened lips and dragged himself up into a seated position.  
  
Maybe this could turn out to be a nice and smooth operation.  
One afternoon of playing along and things would be over real quick.  
All he had to do was convince Wayne.

Easy.

+

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Pretty please.”

“I said no, forget it.”

“I will be the laughing stock for the next decade when I have to call the visit off.”

“You should have thought about that before telling lies.”

“It's been a white lie if anything.”

“You are crazy. Why couldn't you tell them the truth?”

“I may be crazy, but not stupid. Also, I _do_ live here, no? Where else should I invite them over?”

Bruce Wayne stood up to walk from his desk to his couch and over to the fireplace.

“So what is it you have told them? You moved to Gotham City, because...”

“... of my new boyfriend?”

Tony ducked as Wayne swung around as if he had been poked with a fiery stick.

“WHAT?!?”

“Come on, this is the 21st century. Don't tell me you are against LGBTQ rights!”

“I am not, but I am against pretending to be with my nanny whom I have known for a month!”

“A month and a week. And that other thing we can work on until they get here. I can tell you the basic gist of my life, and you can...”

“MISTER STARK!”

“You should probably call me Tony or honeybunny or sweetheart when they are here, though.”

As it turned out, Bruce Wayne's legs were actually in such good shape that they allowed him a mighty jump over the couch to lunge after his fleeting nanny. It was only Tony's luck that Alfred was just vacuuming the carpet outside and that the power cord brought the billionaire's sprint to an abrupt stop.

+

"Okay now, they'll be here any minute. Remember - we've met at a coffee shop here in Gotham where I spilled coffee over your suit."

Tony lingered in the foyer of the Manor, alternating between peeking through the window next to the door and fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweater jacket. Bruce stood a few feet behind him, arms crossed, and glowered at nothing and everything in particular. "That is a ridiculous story." Stark cast him a pointed look over his shoulder. "It's almost how Happy met Pepper." Wayne rolled his eyes.

"That makes it less ridiculous of course." His voice was pure mockery. Tony tsked. "All of your cynical self aside, we instantly clicked and your filthy rich billionaire mind convinced me to move in with you after a few weeks." Wayne's mouth morphed into a lopsided grimace as he stepped over to check the driveway through the other window. "You don't have to tell me the whole story all over again."

They had chosen an afternoon where Alfred was busy taking the boys to their mandatory, bi-annual dentist checkup.

Beforehand, Tony had instructed Bruce on the three people he was about to encounter. There was James Rhodes, a USAF pilot and Tony's best friend ever since university. Virginia 'Pepper' Potts was a businesswoman working in a law firm and Tony's confidante in all things fashion and kitschy movies. Tony had gotten to know Pepper via Steve's best friend Peggy, who worked at the same law firm.

Pepper's boyfriend was Harold Hogan, called Happy because of his grumpy outward appearance. Happy was a former chauffeur who had changed his profession and was now working in the security business. Tony had met him back in the days when he was working at Steve's car repair shop and Hogan used to bring in vehicles from his customers and clients for inspection and repair.

Outside the imposing courtyard of the Manor, a cab pulled up just then.  
  
"There they are!"  
Tony made a move to fiddle with the drawstrings again, but a stern look from Bruce made him lower his hands.  
The Gothamite then went to open the door with a resolute motion.

"Let's get this over and done with."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Two men and a woman piled out of the car. After one of the men had paid the fare, they all stood and gaped at stately Wayne Manor's facade.  
  
"HEY!!"

Tony dashed down the stone stairs and spread his arms open wide. Bruce Wayne remained standing in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his herringbone tweed pants, and watched them act out a big reunion group hug. Eventually, Stark pointed up into his direction. "Meet Bruce, my knight in shining armor." To a skeptical James Rhodes, a tactfully smitten Pepper Potts, and a grumpy Happy Hogan, introductions were made.

The billionaire then led all of them inside the official guest salon on the ground floor. Since Alfred was away, Tony had seen to make coffee. Bruce Wayne figured the butler would neither approve of the odd collection of mugs he distributed, nor of the whole container of milk Stark put on the table without any coaster. Tony then swung around. "Do we have those shortbread cookies somewhere, honey?"

The amount of time that passed until Bruce Wayne realized he was being spoken to bordered on awkward. "We, uh... I don't know..." Tony's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Bruce swallowed. "... darling." It sounded part question, part strangled. Stark was quick to morph his features into a smolder. “Nevermind.” He turned to look at his friends again who sat ramrod straight next to each other on the leather couch.

“Brucie's butler usually takes care of this stuff.”

The leather gave a low creak. “You have a butler?” James' voice spoke of barely hidden ridicule. Nothing on Wayne's face indicated offense or any other reaction. "Alfred has been with my parents for as long as I can remember." Tony bustled around, distributed teaspoons and sugar cubes, and even managed to scrounge up a pack of chocolate chip cookies from a sideboard.

"Really, platypus, be a little realistic here - this crib is huge, who would be able to keep up with all the dust bunnies all the time? Certainly not us."

He threw himself next to Bruce onto the couch opposite of his friends and popped a cookie into his mouth. Pepper's slim fingers curled around her mug. "We have been... worried about your whereabouts, since no one had an idea where you went." Tony hummed and washed his cookie down with a gulp of coffee. "Stuff happened, but I really don't want to go into details. Sorry for being AWOL, though."

He glimpsed over at Wayne with enthusiasm. "See, this guy here managed to throw me for a loop and turn my life upside down in the matter of days, what can I say?" Rhodes still looked critical, as did Hogan. The latter had at least snatched a handful of cookies from the plate and was munching along to avoid being involved in any lengthy conversation. Pepper took a breath, as if to say something, but only exhaled and smiled.

"As long as you're happy." Her eyes rested on the quiet Gothamite. "Tony can be a handful, take my advice." She paired it with a wink. Bruce's lips twitched. "I noticed." Out of impulse, Tony bumped his shoulder. "Hey, stop fraternizing!" Wayne's gaze turned rogue; Tony's grin full-blown Casanova. "Why don't we give your guests a brief tour of the house?" It sounded less like a question and more like a subliminal request. 

With an eager nod, Stark rose from the sofa.

"Riiight. You guys gotta see the in-house swimming pool and the observatory on the roof. That one's truly something else!"

+

At the clutter of toys down one of the many aisles, Pepper looked at Tony and Bruce with a huge question mark over her head.

Wayne pursed his lips. “This is the boys' wing. It usually looks less... messy.” The pointed stare at his nanny was met with a Cheshire grin. “Your education, honey. I'll just have to be more strict.” Before Bruce was able to say something that had the potential for blowing their cover, Pepper made a small noise of surprise. "You... have kids?” Bruce Wayne slipped his hands into his pockets. "Two of them are adopted, one is not."

The redhead cleared her throat, trying to appear unfazed, but failing. “I... uh, I didn't expect that.” She inspected the interior of Damian's room through the open door with interest. “How... refreshing.” All men followed her gaze over to the Gothic-inspired room with its black bed sheets, dark walls, and arcane drawings and paintings. Stark pulled the door shut with a chuckle. “We're still waiting for his Lego phase.”

With that, Tony was quick to usher them onward, heading for a stroll outside the gardens of Wayne Manor. After describing a wide arc and walking past beautiful lawns, a little pond, and lots of fountains and statues from the Victorian era, the designated gravel way brought them back up to the front. Pepper Potts who had been holding Hogan's hand for the whole time then turned to look at Tony and Bruce.

The two men had walked side by side, though at a respectable distance to each other. "This is a beautiful estate, Bruce, thank you so much for your time. We really do not want to keep you guys any longer." James, who had been trailing behind them for a while, waved his mobile before he pocketed it. “I already ordered a cab.”

Wayne shook everybody's hands one last time after they had fetched their jackets and coats, leaving Tony alone with his friends for their final goodbyes. Pepper reached out to pull Tony into a hug. “If you need anything, call me. Anytime.” He nodded against her ear. “I call first dibs on being your best man, just FYI.” With an incensed expression, she mock-hit his chest and headed for the cab.

James Rhodes was next in line, and he wore a deep frown. “You sure about this?” Stark countered with a hearty nod. “I'm in good hands, platypus, believe me.” Rhodey squeezed his shoulder one last time before he got into the passenger seat and told their driver the destination. With Pepper already in the backseat, Tony then turned to his bulky friend, pulled him into a hug, and spoke low against the shell of his ear.

“Go and ask her, Hapster. Just do it. Sometimes you gotta follow your heart, not your head.”  
Hogan drew back, the tips of his ears already turning a slight shade of red.   
“Like you?”   
  
Tony's smile became diffuse.   
  
“Yeah, kinda like me. Do as I say and do as I do. For once.”

+

As soon as the taillights from the taxi had vanished into the distance, Tony exhaled deep and closed the door. He walked back over into the salon, surprised to find Wayne still sitting there, bent forward with elbows on his thighs, and rubbing his hands in slow motion. Wordless, Stark headed for the bar in the corner, grabbed two glasses and a bottle of the next best liquor he found, and poured two shots.

"Here. You earned it."

Much to his surprise, Wayne straightened up and took the proffered glass. He stared at something in the distance as he downed it in one go. Tony's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. Instead, he poured him a refill and sat down, albeit at a greater distance than before. “Thanks for playing along today. I know it was kinda hard for you.”

“You have no idea.”

“I meant hard for you not to ravage me right there on the couch.”

“I think I will manage to contain myself. Now and in the future.”

“Figured.”

They lapsed into a silence that was not as uncomfortable as it might have seemed. Much to Tony's surprise, it was Wayne who broke it. "Is Damian in need of psychotherapy?" Tony's eyebrows rose again. "What makes you think that?" Bruce did not make eye contact and kept on staring down at the glass in his hands. "His behavior is not like that of a normal child."

Stark sipped from his drink, put an elbow up on the backrest of the couch, and supported his head with a fist. "While I may give you that, define 'normal'. He's a bit of a little weirdo, sure, but that's nothing I cannot cope with." Bruce took another swig of whiskey and twirled the tumbler between his fingers. “My sons are growing up without a mother. I feel like I am bereaving them of a female touch.”

His nanny made a humming noise. “Because of all the manly testosterone that moved in with me?” Wayne's mouth twitched. “Certainly not. I caught you dancing to Tina Turner.” Stark met his sarcasm with a loud huff. “Just FYI - I am a total juggernaut. I do Wing Chun. Feel my biceps.”

“No, thanks.”

“Feel it, c'mon.”

“Think I'll pass.”

“Your loss.”

Tony finished his glass and took the also empty one from Wayne's grip as he stood up. “Dami is going to be fine, you'll see. Even if neither of us is sporting two X chromosomes. But I don't think he's unhappy or something. At all.” At that, a small, almost too easy to miss smile flitted over Wayne's sparse set of lips.

“Thanks.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

A week later, Tony made his way up the stairs. He went with caution, equipped with an armful of packages from Amazon for Tim's birthday in three days. Once he passed by said boy's room, he heard a crash and a muffled, youthful curse. Quick to hide his shopping haul in his bedroom, he knocked. “Hey, kiddo, everything alright in there?” When a dejected “No” was his answer, Tony dared to open the door and peeked inside.

The crestfallen boy sat at his desk, head propped up in one hand, and looked up at him with a miserable expression. “I have to hand in a science project and I cannot get this thing to work.” Tony inspected the collection of wires, burnt cables, and broken panels on his table with interest. “What's the topic?” Tim sighed into his palm. “Renewable energy sources.” Tony scratched his beard and stepped closer. “That can't be too hard.”

The 12-year-old threw him a look that spoke volumes. “The teachers said our parents are not allowed to help.” From where he had been browsing through the instructions, Tony let the paper sink. “But what about nannies? Are they not allowed, too?” The boy pursed his lips, clearly pondering his question. “I... that was not mentioned anywhere.” Tony grinned. “So we're not breaking any rules here. When's this due?”

“Tomorrow.”  
Stark rolled up his sleeves.  
“Better get going then.”

For the upcoming three and a half hours, they sat and tinkered. Tony went and scrounged up tools from all over the Manor, making Tim's room look like a mini-workshop. The design he whipped out was of small, cylindrical shape, with superconductors made from copper and tiny magnetic coils. When he motioned for Tim to connect the final wires, the whole apparatus lit up and began working.

The boy, already dressed in his pajamas, reached up to hug him.  
“Thank you, Tony.”  
Stark's eyes grew soft and he gave a little ruffle to Tim's hair.

"Anything for you, Edison. Now get into bed and sleep tight.”

+  
  
The next morning, after seeing the boys off to school and helping Tim carry his project safely inside, Tony grabbed the pile of mail that had been delivered to the Manor and browsed through it. Most letters were for Wayne, of course, but there was a single envelope that held his name. With a curious expression, he tore off the lid.

 _Please join us in celebrating our engagement_  
_On Saturday, the 16 th of October_  
_at 7 P. M. at 265 Elizabeth Street,_  
_New York_

_No gifts but a plus one allowed!_

_Virginia Potts and Harold Hogan_

Tony stared at the ivory card. The party was a month away, but there were several problems looming up. On the one hand, he was beyond stoked that Happy finally proposed, on the other hand, an invitation like that meant that Steve would most likely be on the invitee’s list as well, seeing he was one of Pepper's friends. Not going definitely was not an option, as was attending alone if Steve brought Bucky along.

Just then, Bruce Wayne entered the kitchen, headed for the fridge.  
The smile on Tony's grin turned shark-like.  
“Hi, Mister W.”  
  
With a container of plain Greek yoghurt in his hand, the billionaire squinted at the overly merry sounding greeting. “Mister Stark.” His voice sounded modulated and unaffected as usual. Tony then made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Red sock with the white wash, eh? Happens to me all the time.” All sympathetic, he pointed at the light-pink business shirt Wayne wore, together with a matching, striped tie and gray dress pants.

The Gothamite paused and looked down before his eyes narrowed to slits. “No.” An awkward vacuum erupted. Stark then leaned his torso over the kitchen counter and propped up his chin, all winsome. “Anyways. Didn’t you say you wanted to be a little more outgoing and open to socializing events?” Wayne pushed the door to the fridge shut and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. “No, I never said that.” Tony hummed.

“Oh, right, that was me saying that. About you.” At that, Wayne tore the lid from the yoghurt off with more force than necessary and threw it into the trash. “If you have enough time to mull over things not related to your field of expertise, then maybe we should go and find additional tasks for you to take on.” His voice had taken on a more than exasperated tone.

“Whoa, hold yer horses, Marshall. I actually don’t mull over that, it’s just that I got this”, Tonys pulled the invitation out from where he was squishing it between his body and the kitchen counter. “And I need a plus one. And since Pep and Happy think you and me are… you know… it would seem more than fitting.” Wayne stopped stirring his yoghurt and inspected the card. Even from afar, its design gave the occasion away.

“Why would I go to an engagement party of people I don't know, and who were left thinking I am in a relationship with you, because _you_ were inclined to lie about your current life choices?” At the monotone list, Tony blinked at him like an owl. “Because it would mean a lot to me?” The simplicity of his answer made Bruce Wayne avert his pleading eyes and stare into his yoghurt. "No, I can't. I... am sorry.”  
  
He fled the scene before Tony could try to persuade him any further.

Left behind, Stark then tapped the invitation against his thigh and squinted into the distance.

Four weeks to go. He would think of something.  
  
+

The next day, Tony strolled past the empty office of his employer and paused to look inside. One thing he had already learned was that Bruce Wayne was a neat freak. There were no papers on his desk, all books and files were shelved, and even the few pens lay in an accurate angle next to each other. That was how one single item caught his attention. "Look who's forgotten his moleskin. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

A glimpse at his watch revealed that he had about fours hours until Tim would require a ride home, and plenty of time until Damian and Richard were done with school and their respective activities. Tony grabbed the black calender and headed for the car pool. He thumbed through the pages with mild to moderate interest, but apart from Wayne's cursive handwriting which was neat and sharp, nothing really stuck out.

Down in the garage, Tony slipped the calender under one arm, put a palm over his eyes, and pointed at the row of shiny, fast cars.  
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, who wants to be shown the ropes, let Tony Stark know.”  
Opening his eyes, his finger was resting on a distinguished Mercedes AMG GTS in metallic black.  
  
“Fine with me, sweetheart.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Wayne's shirt/outfit would kinda look like this:  
> (ETA: Thank you, TDK Behind The Scenes, for giving me validation)  
> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/dd/ae/9f/ddae9ff16572db08c3888fcb77403d5c--christian-bale-batman.jpg
> 
> Tony's car choice du jour:  
> http://cdn1.evo.co.uk/sites/evo/files/styles/gallery_adv/public/performmaster_amg_gt_s_front_0.jpg?itok=ops0cLnA


	10. Chapter 10

It was the first time Tony had ever visited Wayne Tower, the tallest building in the heart of Gotham City. He caused a lot of fluster with the loud and flashy supercar, and even more with its license plate reading 'WAYNE 11'. It took some time before WE's security realized it was not, in fact, the very Mister Wayne behind the wheel. A few phone calls later, Tony got ushered into an elevator and was taken high up into the executive suite.

Bruce Wayne came to meet him halfway, frowning at the unannounced visit and his visitor's, as usual, lax outfit of a hooded sweater, leather jacket, faded denims, and sneakers. Tony's smile was endearing and wide as he spotted him from afar and he reached into his jacket to wave at Bruce with a small, black item. "Hiya, Mister W. Look who's been a space cadet this morning!"

At his hollering, the secretary who had escorted him into Wayne's private offices nearly choked on her tongue. Another man peeked out of a nearby office, interested in the current commotion on the corridor. He was taller than Wayne and had short, curly gray hair. Bruce nodded at his assistant to get back to work. The billionaire looked at his curious business partner and made a little gesture towards Tony.

“Lucius, this is Mister Stark, the... nanny of my sons.”  
Lucius Fox stepped closer and shook Tony's hand. The latter then looked at his employer again.  
“By the way, Tim's got an A+ on his science project! He just texted me on the way here. Neat, huh?”  
  
A skeptical Bruce Wayne reached out to take the moleskin from Tony's hands. “It was a project Tim was supposed to solve and work on all by himself.” Tony was just about to defend his actions when Wayne's phone began to ring. Bruce excused himself after looking at the display and walked away. The man named Lucius Fox kept on watching Tony with piqued interest. “What was the project about?”

“The--? Oh, renewable energy sources. We built a miniature fusion reactor.”  
Fox's eyebrows rose in appreciation and surprise.  
“What did you say your initial profession was again, Mister Stark?”

“I'm a mechanic, and the name's Tony.”  
“Where did you study, Tony?”  
“MIT.”

Both of them looked over to where Bruce Wayne had meandered over into Fox's empty office and was actively speaking on the phone. “Looks like that is going to take a while. Would you be interested in taking a small tour of the R&D facility with me?” A megawatt smile lit up Tony's whole face.  
  
“I'd love to, Mister Fox.”

“I am happy to hear that, and it's Lucius.”  
  
+

Down in the basement of Wayne Enterprises, Tony marveled at the sheer endless rows of technological gadgets.  
“Isn't all of this confidential stuff?”  
Fox gave a sly grin and clasped his hands behind his back.  
  
“Aren't you working for the very owner of all of this confidential stuff?”  
They shared a confidential grin.  
“Point for you, Lou.”

As they meandered further into the vast, concrete-clad area, Tony eventually stopped and stared at a huge drawing board which held a distinctive draft. "Is that what I think it is?" Fox followed his line of view and tilted his head. "Depends on what you are thinking."

"My mind just went... tokamak."

Fox's expression spoke of pride. "The leading candidate for a practical fusion reactor, yes. Designed as it is, the reactor should be capable of producing about three times as much electricity as is needed to keep it running. I think it could be improved to increase that proportion to about five or six times, though.” Tony nodded along as his eyes kept on roaming around the schematics.

“Only if you can get it heated to temperatures in excess of 150 million°C. If that happens, you'll be able to form a hot plasma that can potentially generate limitless amounts of energy. Fancy idea if you ask me.” With slow, circumspect motions, Fox took his glasses off and placed them aside. “Very insightful point of view for a man not working in the field of fusion reactor science.” Tony's white teeth shone back at him.

“What can I say, I am a jack of many trades.”  
The older man nodded, once.  
“And does working as Mister Wayne's nanny fulfill all of those... trades you're interested in?”

“Well, it... partly.”  
With a rather shrewd expression, Lucius Fox leaned in closer.  
“How would you feel about working part-time here with me in R&D, to keep things... more balanced?”

+

Bruce Wayne himself walked his nanny down into the garage. Whether to ensure he would not get lost or would not cause any more mayhem remained unclear. "Since you are already here, there are some things I'd like you to take care of." The billionaire pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his calendar.

“Lucius-the-Fox offered me a job.”  
At Tony's blurted-out statement, Bruce stopped in mid-motion and looked up.  
“What?”

Tony twirled the car fob in between his fingers. "Part-time, here at R&D. You said yourself I gotta find other tasks to tackle. Here I go, tackling the tasks. And it's even to your company’s benefit.” Tony Stark was nothing but smug, and Bruce Wayne looked like he wanted to strangle him for it. Or his CEO Lucius-the-Fox.

“Unless you don't want me to put my expertise to good use, Mister W.”  
The Gothamite was quick to put up his best haughty expression.  
“No, go on. This will not be a problem.”  
  
Stark made a thumbs-up gesture and slipped into the driver's seat.  
“Awesome. See you at home later on.”  
Tony then floored the Mercedes up the ramp slope with vigor and loud revving.

Bruce Wayne was left behind to watch its disappearing taillights with gritted teeth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is a tokamak? According to Wiki, this here:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tokamak
> 
> (it looks a bit like that huge ARC reactor from IM1, but that may just be me)
> 
> Also, I have to get back to that lovely Mercedes one more time, because this vid is a pure eargasm  
> https://youtu.be/7fWUiW7ALAM?t=134  
> (credit to the YouTube channel owner of course, I am just borrowing for visualization and admiration purposes)
> 
> Bottom line: Tony has good taste in cars (and men;))


	11. Chapter 11

Tim's birthday fell on a Friday. Once school was over, he was allowed to open all of his thirteen presents.

He got a new bass drum from his father, a pair of drumsticks with a skull and crossbones design from Damian, a video game from Richard, a new BMX helmet from Alfred, and several nerdy t-shirts from Tony. Around 5:30, the Waynes then headed out for burgers and fries; something Tim had specifically requested upon Tony's tales of an American diner four miles north of Gotham that made the best fast food around.

Stark did a superfluous headcount and looked at the people behind him as they crossed the parking lot. “Five guys at Five Guys. Ain't we rad.” Bruce cast him and the diner equally skeptical looks but said nothing and focused back on the phone in his hand. Richard and Tim were dashing ahead, discussing which burgers to try. Damian was trailing behind with a sour expression, so Tony fell into lockstep with him. “What's up, dude?"

He earned a very flat look from the boy who was wearing his favorite sweater under his open jacket. "I wanted to eat pasta." Stark hummed. "Because you don't like burgers, or because it's been Tim's decision?" Damian's eyes narrowed at Tim's back. "No one wanted to have dinner in the morgue on my birthday last year." Suppressing a faint gag reflex, Tony was quick to put up a dazzling grin.

"While that is... unfortunate, it's nothing we couldn't find a solution for this year. Maybe not with as much decay and maggots, but a solution nonetheless." He then put an arm around a small set of shoulders. "Let's see if we can get the cook to make the cheeseburger look extra rotten, just for you." A slow, mollified grin spread out over Damian's face.  
  
Soon, they were sitting in the reserved booth with their ordered choices of soft drinks and food. After taking a first, hearty bite, Tony lowered his burger and stared at the man opposite of him. "Oh my god, you actually eat burgers with a fork and a knife. What kind of monster are you? That's a plethora of issues right there." Ignoring him, Bruce looked up from his plate and into the round of youthful, grinning faces.

“As of next week, Mister Stark will start working part-time at Wayne Enterprises.”  
  
Silence at the table for a good five seconds. Richard was the first to put his coke down with a miserable expression. “Why?” Tim frowned with dejection and also let his burger sink. “No.” Damian's fiery gaze turned towards the man in question. “You are leaving us.” With a pointed look at Wayne and his undiplomatic way of breaking it to them, Tony held up a pacifying hand.

"First of all, before the Mutiny on the Bounty escalates - no, I won't leave you. Second - it's gonna be a flexible schedule. Your dad's colleague and I get along great. And third - your dad was all for it, seeing I am such a genius.” Bruce Wayne's eyebrow twitched but he said nothing and went back to slicing his burger. Damian, however, thumped a small fist onto the table and made the salt and pepper shakers wobble.

“This is stupid and I don't want it!”

His brothers nodded and were about to voice their own chagrin when their father put his cutlery aside, that time with a sharp, metal clang against the plate, and glowered at his kids. “I told Mister Stark this will not be a problem." The look he cast them dared them to argue. For a while, no one said a word and the boys went back to poke at their food. Tony then cleared throat through the glum silence that had set in.

"Hey, how about a round of salted caramel milkshakes afterward? My treat.”

The boys nodded, but it was without sincere enthusiasm.

+

Things became a problem not even seven days in.

Richard, so used to discussing girl trouble with Tony by now, went and spilled all of his frustrations to Alfred. The butler in turn had not enough time to deal with Tim's many leisure activities, causing him to miss out on several appointments. Damian fell back into old habits and brought his ouija board to dinner. After two weeks of sheer adolescent horror, an ill-tempered Bruce Wayne eventually admitted defeat, albeit in private.

“What does it require for you to come back to working full-time as our nanny?”

From where Tony was in the middle of rope skipping in the private gym of the Manor one evening, he paused and lowered the rope. “Why, I do like my new occupation a lot. And the R&D is so nice. Real nice. Lou lets me work on real rad stuff. Yesterday, for example, I’ve tinkered with the schematics of gyroscopic navigational satellite systems. It’s totally different from working in a car repair shop, that’s for sure.”

Bruce Wayne's nostrils flared. He was not a man used to being met with refusal. His stance became commandeering. “Will you do it if I give you a raise?” Still a bit out of breath, Stark looked thoughtful. “Technically I earn double pay now, both coming from your books, so I think that would be... unseemly.” His eyes, however, held a cheeky glint which caused Bruce's blood pressure to rise.

“Okay, Mister Stark. About that question you have asked me earlier...”  
Tony twirled the skipping rope around one idle finger.  
“Which one?”  
  
Bruce Wayne dug his manicured fingernails into the palms of his hands so hard it hurt.  
“Regarding that invitation of yours...”  
Tony's whole facade was the picture of innocence.  
  
“Which one?”  
A muscle under Wayne's right eye twitched, once.  
“Are you going to keep making this difficult?”  
  
An angelic smile shone back at him. “No, but you need to be a little more precise.” Nodding to himself with force to keep his temper in check, Bruce pulled a lopsided grimace. “I will accompany you to that party of yours if you will come back to the Manor full time.” With a triumphant “Ha!” Tony thrust his hand out to Wayne. Before the billionaire was able to shake in, however, Stark withdrew.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast. I also request the latest Lamborghini as an escort vehicle.”  
Bruce's jaw was clenched tight but he managed to give a nod.  
“Deal.”  
  
Tony grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Bruce Wayne bastardizing fast food is comic canon, aka not from me. An article about it can be found and lol'd upon here: https://io9.gizmodo.com/bruce-wayne-is-a-goddamn-monster-1791881139


	12. Chapter 12

The evening of the party arrived, and for once, Tony was the first one ready. As he stood waiting in the foyer, he bopped up and down at the bottom of the massive stone staircase. He wore a pair of smart sneakers in gray-white, dark denims which were, for once, neither ripped nor faded, a light blue button down shirt, and a navy blue vest on top. A spritz of the Bulgari Black fragrance he had splurged upon completed his look.

Five minutes later, Wayne stepped down in tailored pants, tasseled loafers, a blue shirt, and a gray tweed blazer. He, too, smelled of expensive aftershave. Delighted, Tony pointed from his vest to Wayne’s shirt. “Matchy matchy.” His eyes traveled down. “Except for the square shoes, but that’s okay. I don’t mind.” Bruce mimicked his line of view and inspected his sneakers in return. It was then that his left eyebrow arched upward.

“Are you wearing lifts?”  
At the underlying glee in his voice, Tony all but bristled and stormed for the main entrance.  
“Just for that rude remark you're going to let me drive.”

With a smug curl of the lip, the billionaire adjusted his glasses, glimpsed at his mobile phone before putting it into the inside pocket of his jacket, and produced a car key fob instead. “Nice try.” As they skipped down the stairs side by side, Wayne cast his company another pointed look. “Just to clarify the situation again: There will be no name calling or any embarrassing tale spinning.”

“Alright-y.”

“I will leave at 11:30 the latest. If you don’t want to come along, feel free to take a cab.”

“Harsh, but okay.”

“And absolutely no touching or any compromising, intimate situations.”

“Boy, you are really no fun at all, Mister W.”

A daring glower prompted Tony to shut up and opt for a benevolent smile. He followed Wayne over to where a huge, gray metallic Lamborghini Aventador was already parked up and waiting for them. Clapping his hands in sheer delight, Tony reached for the door handle. “Oh, yeah. Hell, yeah. People will go nuts over my stunning escort.” Slipping into the driver's seat, Wayne buckled up and flipped the ignition button open.

“So that's your true motivation behind the whole thing.”  
The Aventador sprang to life with a massive roar. Distracted by it, Tony blinked up.  
“Huh? What?”  
  
The billionaire motioned for him to fasten his seat belt and turned the wheel with a flat palm. “The need to show off.” There was a trifle of disappointment swinging within his statement. Tony inspected the dashboard and the paddle shifters for the longest time. “Believe me, it's just to one-up my ex and his lover.” Wayne shook his head and murmured to himself as he maneuvered the sports car out of the gravel driveway.

“I can't believe I agreed to do this.”

+  
  
They arrived at The Musket Room a little after 7 pm. Tony had wanted to go faster, but as it turned out, Bruce Wayne was a stickler for speeding limits. Outside of the white-paneled venue, a small delegation of guests was gathered. Upon the distinctive, deep purr of the Italian sports car even from far away, most heads turned into their direction. With utter satisfaction Tony noticed Steve was among the spectators as well.

“Best entrance ever. Now rev it up a little will you.”  
He kept his gaze straight ahead as he spoke. Wayne did, too.  
“Remember our agreement.”

At that, Stark glimpsed at him with delight written all over his face.  
“Course. Come on. Just once.”  
The billionaire threw him a pointed look. Tony returned and held it.

Bruce then put his foot down, and the Aventador gave a brutal whine of its engine before it downshifted just as loudly. Tony inclined his head. “Thanks. And just for the record - you don’t have to go hold the door for me. We’re not that kind of couple.” To over a dozen pairs of eyes, they slid the extravagant scissor doors open and exited.

Tony’s eyes flew over to where Pepper and Happy stood amid a circle of people he knew, and faces he did not recognize. He waited until Wayne had instructed an overly excited valet parking boy before handing over his car keys. Together they then walked towards the engaged couple, and Pepper broke free to hug him.

“I’m so glad you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world, Pep.” Tony pointed at his silent companion. “You remember Bruce.” She nodded and shook his hand while her fiancé joined them to slap Tony’s shoulder. “What a car.” The former chauffeur’s eyes drifted over to the Lamborghini even as he shook Wayne’s hand. Bruce nodded; face solemn. “You should see my other one.” Happy Hogan stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not.

Tony gave an overly excited laugh.  
“Bruce has a car schtick. It could be worse.”  
Through the brief silence that erupted, a voice from behind then made him turn around.

“Hello, Tony.”  
Steve Rogers stood, wearing a fake smile, and glimpsed from his ex-boyfriend to Wayne and back.  
“Pep said she wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

It sounded ambiguous and caused Bruce’s forehead to crease in a slight, almost invisible frown. Tony put up a partly forced, sociable façade. “Anything for my favorite girl.” Rogers eyed Wayne who kept on sizing him up in return. Pepper was quick to put an end to the silent stare-down and cleared her throat. “Why don’t we all go inside? The rest is already seated, and I think the food is about to be served.”

Steve uncrossed his arms, gave a curt nod, and headed for a man who Tony recognized as Bucky Barnes. His hair had grown-out and was coiffed into a sleek man-bun to counter the designer scruff on his face. A dark rumble from the side made him jerk out of his train of thoughts. “Shall we?” With a small smile, Bruce made a gallant gesture for Tony to lead the way. The latter nodded and started walking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event location mentioned in this one:  
> http://www.themusketroom.com/
> 
> The first 20 seconds of this vid are kind of a visual for a scene in this chapter (wrong Lambo color again, though)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ku1UOusJcCQ


	13. Chapter 13

The Musket Room was a cozy restaurant with a walnut timber bar and a room leading out into a backyard garden area. Exposed brick walls and mid-century brass chandeliers dominated the interior, and the area Pepper and Happy had reserved accommodated about 30 people in little nooks.

Tony and Bruce were seated close to the couple at a round table for four, together with James Rhodes and Carol Danvers, his on-and-off date. As far as Tony was informed, the signs were more on than off. Wayne asked the waiter for an alcohol-free soda while Tony ordered single malt on the rocks. "So," James Rhodes leaned forward and clasped his drink. "What have you two been up to?" There was a slight, baiting undertone to his voice.

Tony immediately took the lead. "Guess what? I am now working part-time at Bruce's company. In R&D." Wayne's jaw worked as if he was about to say something. He did not and tempered it down to a noncommittal smile instead. James noticed, but did not comment. "That's really great, Tones." His eyes flew over to the silent man next to him. "Forgot to ask the last time. What is your company producing?"

Bruce's glasses flashed in the light as he leaned back in his chair. "Wayne Enterprises is primarily focused on technological developments. From electronics and communication systems over to products for biological and medical use." Carol gave an appreciative nod. Rhodey, however, sipped from his drink and cocked his head. "That's all a bit vague. Care to explain?" Tony cast his friend a glance that held some sort of subtle warning.

Unfazed, the Gothamite put his arm on the table and gave a sparse smile. "We also operate several divisions dealing in aerospace technologies. I would assume that interests you more than the production of our latest industrial fertilizer machinery, Lieutenant Colonel." At that, three pairs of eyebrows rose. Rhodey blinked in honest surprise. “You mean the W-4 Wraith fighter and the Kestrel attack helicopter are yours?”

Bruce gave a solemn nod. “Wayne Aerospace.” James tilted his head with a whistle. "Man, they're legendary around every base I've ever been stationed at." Tony looked from one man to the other. "You've never told me you're exclusive with the DoD." Bruce's smile became less sparse and more lenient. "Because I am not. Our military aviation branch merely designs and manufactures jet fighters and helicopters."

James raised his drink and pointed it at Wayne. "Highly successful ones, too." That time, the billionaire was the one to incline his head. "I shall pass it on to our engineers." Shortly after, food was delivered and the tension at their table began to melt away. Over espresso and wedding cake, the four of them were chatting in an amicable manner. It secretly pleased Tony how Bruce Wayne was, in fact, good at making small talk.

Carol, also a high-ranking officer in the Air Force, wanted to know more about those legendary aircrafts, to which Rhodey was able to share his experiences in flying a W-4 once on a test run. The Gothamite made an effort to answer all of their questions best way he could while Tony let his eyes wander around the venue.

In the corner to the right, Pepper and Happy had already opened the dance floor and were waltzing along to some sort of romantic power ballad from the eighties. Tony smiled at them from afar. Just then, the future Mrs. Hogan caught his gaze and made a come-hither gesture. All winsome, Tony shook his head and pointed at himself and over to the restrooms. Without thinking, he reached out to place his hand on Bruce's arm.

A jolt ran through Wayne's body, even if neither Carol nor James had noticed. Tony was quick to give an apologetic smirk.

"Sorry. Be right back."  
Wayne's hazel eyes darted all over his face for a moment.  
“Sure.”

+

Once he had washed his hands, Tony stood and watched the private party from afar.

Bruce Wayne was now deep in conversation with Rhodes and Danvers, their heads together over the ruckus of upbeat music. In the back, he spotted Steve and Bucky. The latter was grinning and wiping at some frosting on Steve's chin. It was then that Tony decided to go for a bit of fresh air. He popped a strip of chewing gum into his mouth and meandered out into the backyard of the restaurant.

The area turned out to be a miniature garden where fresh produce for the chef was growing. Exhaling deep, Tony leaned against a balustrade and watched the small beds of vegetables and herbs at his feet. After a little while, footsteps from behind approached. “I think you can stop pretending. It's obvious.” Tony's eyes flew from the patch of parsley up to the blue eyes of his ex. “Come again?” Rogers' mouth morphed into a sneer.  
  
“We all know what game you're playing here, Tony.”  
  
“Game?”  
  
Steve's expression changed into something like patronizing hubris. “Bringing some rich fella into this to get back at me.” For a while, Tony chewed on his piece of gum. Then he tsked with audible disdain. “You're thinking a bit much about things that are none of your business, Steven.” Proud about the fact that his voice sounded steady, Tony squared his shoulders and raised his chin. Still the taller one, Steve put his arms akimbo.

"I wanted to speak to you about the whole situation, but it was you who just offed from one day to the other."

Incredulous, Tony spread his arms wide. "So sorry. Sorry for being so inconsiderate. I really should have waited for Bucky to finish deep-throating you and have a proper, rational conversation afterward." The blonde now looked at least mildly embarrassed and averted his gaze. "I'm talking about the shop, the responsibilities. Our clients are not at fault for this, but you just..."

At that, Tony jabbed a finger at him, face twisting with open anger, hurt, and betrayal.  
"I fuckin salvaged what was left of my dignity! And don't you guilt-trip me with the shop, if _you_ hadn't..."  
He did not notice how his voice had risen a couple of octaves until a quiet voice from behind chimed in.  
  
“Here you are.”  
  
Both of them swung around. Bruce Wayne's dark silhouette loomed up in the twilight of the outdoor area. Neither Tony nor Steve had seen or heard him approach. Tony breathed out deep and forced his smile to become endearing. “Sorry, but you and Rhodey were so deep in conversation, I didn't want to interrupt.” Wayne sauntered closer and stood next to him; tall and with a hint of possessiveness.

It took a lot out of Tony to not flinch when he felt Wayne putting a hand in the small of his back. “I'm afraid we have to say goodbye, it's almost half past eleven and you know I have to be in London tomorrow evening.” The Gothamite then made a point in checking his $ 7000 Jaeger LeCoultre watch long enough for Rogers to notice. Tony pulled a face but nodded, still a bit dizzy by the close proximity and touch.

“Sure, I... let me just go find Pep and Happy.”

Wayne steered him inside, sheltering him from the daggers Rogers glared at their backs. Once they were sitting in the Lamborghini, Wayne was busy programming the navigation system. Tony reached out for his arm but withdrew at the very last second, remembering their deal. It still prompted Bruce to glimpse up at him from where he was adjusting the toggle. Tony put up a small smile. “You needn't have bothered, but thanks.”

The billionaire gave a simple shake of his head.  
  
“It's alright.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info about Wayne Enterprises taken from Wikipedia:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wayne_Enterprises


	14. Chapter 14

Both then buckled up before Wayne pressed the ignition button and steered the Aventador out into traffic with a distinctive roar. For a while, conversation between them was limited to the occasional question-and-answer game about the sports car or their individual opinion on the smoked scallops from the menu. Cruising through the night on empty streets eventually had a soothing effect on Tony's still frazzled nerves.

He slouched deeper into the sports seat and watched the scenery fly by. When they passed through the Palisades' outer borough, something in the distance caught his attention. "What's that?" Wayne's eyes followed his outstretched finger. "Hillsdale." Stark hummed, suddenly a bit more awake. "Bet you can see all of Gotham from up there." After a little pause, Bruce cleared his throat. "There is an observation deck for tourists."

His voice held a bit of dread, and Tony's interest began to flare up. "Can we go up there? I've never seen this city from above." The billionaire glimpsed at his watch but eventually nodded. "Just briefly." The Aventador took the incline with effortless power, and they arrived on a fenced, empty parking lot. Tony hopped out and looked around. Eventually, he snorted out loud.  
  
"Observation deck, my ass. This is an A-grade make-out point."

From where Bruce Wayne had followed his stride, embarrassment was now written square across his face. Tony thus said the next best thing on his mind. "Have the boys ever been up here?" In an instant, the Gothamite's countenance darkened. "Most certainly not! And it is your responsibility to keep it that way." Tony grinned and shoved his hands into his pockets.  
  
“How long are you planning on running such a tight ship?”  
“Until all of them are over 30 if I can help it.”  
“Whew, ambitious.”  
  
Wayne had no answer to that, and they both turned to watch the scenery. Out there, the sounds of the city were almost non-existent, leaving only a soft, distinctive chirping of crickets in the distance. Stark then turned to look at his silent companion. “Thanks for coming along tonight. Steve's reaction was more than worth it.” Bruce folded his arms in front of his chest. “He appears like an overbearing type of person.”

There was a crunching sound as Tony kicked at some pebbles. “Took me a while to realize that, but yeah.” It seemed Wayne would not comment any further, so his quiet question managed to take Stark by surprise. “What happened?” Tony gave a hum. “We've been together for seven years until I caught him with his best friend one afternoon. The one with the douche donut upon his head.” After more silence, Wayne cleared his throat.

“I am sorry for your experience.”  
“Don't be. You benefited from it after all.”  
“I wouldn't exactly call it benef...”

“... and besides, I like it here – shitty weather and all.”  
A groomed eyebrow arched upward.  
“Do you now.”

Tony nodded with vigor. “Tonight's actually quite nice, the weather I mean.” He then put his elbows up on the wooden balustrade and gazed at the scenery at their feet. “You know, from up here the city doesn’t look half bad.” Bruce followed his gaze and unfolded his arms. His eyes then lost their usual, critical touch. “She doesn’t.” Stark glimpsed at his profile before he smiled to himself in the dim light of a far-away streetlamp.

"You sound like you’re in love.”  
His answer was a small snort.  
“That’s ridiculous.”

Tony cocked his head to look at him.  
"What? Being in love?”  
Bruce’s eyebrows creased but he kept on staring ahead.  
  
"No. Loving an entire city.”  
Stark chuckled.  
"People fall in love with stranger things.”  
  
A gust of wind played with the bangs on Wayne's forehead. "There is too much out there that’s not to love.” Stark chuckled with good-natured reproach. “Same goes for human beings, and yet people do it. Again and again.” The wooden balustrade made a soft creaking sound as Tony shifted and leaned against it with a confidential look on his face. “When you love, you love completely. You love the light and the dark.”  
  
Somehow, Bruce Wayne was breathing a bit harsher than before.

“You believe that?”

His voice was a deep, low rumble. Tony pushed himself off the balustrade and positioned himself right in front of him. “Yeah, of course.” In a bold move, his hands went up to straighten the small pocket square inside Bruce's tweed jacket. Wayne made no move to draw or slap him away, so Tony took his time. Once done, he gave a little pat to the firm chest underneath. “I believe in love against all odds.”   
  
His eyes traveled up and lingered within hazel ones.  
  
It was then that Bruce Wayne leaned in and pressed his lips to Tony's.

It was a gentle, non-invading kiss, and it was over less than two seconds later. Tony realized he had closed his eyes nonetheless, as had the Gothamite, apparently. He reopened them with a throaty chuckle. “My, my, Mister Wayne. Whodathunk.” The taller man licked his lips and took a step back at the same time, looking distraught. “I am... that was... improper of me. I am sorry.” Tony's smile held a dreamy touch. “Well, I'm not.”  
  
Bruce pushed his glasses all the way back up his nose and forced a controlled look on his face.

“We have to get back, it's late.”

Despite Tony's subtle and not-so-subtle tries to get him to loosen up, Wayne remained distant for the rest of the drive. He mumbled some sort of goodnight and made a beeline for his quarters as soon as they came to a stop in front of the Manor. With a soft whistle on his lips, Tony shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and threw the Aventador a final, longing glance before he slowly trudged up the stairs.

"Next time, buster."  
  
+

Standing on the doorstep of Wayne Manor again the next morning, umbrella in hand, the Gotham billionaire watched his butler stow their luggage into the taxi. He then turned back around to an eager-looking Tony Stark. “Repeat it again.” The dark-haired man took a deep breath and raised a hand to tick off his fingers.

“The emergency numbers are saved to my phone and to every other phone in this house. Richard is supposed to finish his studies before the weekend. Tim has a doctor's appointment in Midtown to attend on Monday afternoon, and Damian is not to be left alone with any living creatures smaller than him.” At Tony's rattled-off list, Wayne stared at him for a few heartbeats. Stark cocked his hip and put a hand on it.

“What? Didn't think I'd pay attention, eh?”

Bruce looked as if he was about to reply, but only gave a negating shake of the head instead. “Nevermind. You have my and Alfred’s mobile numbers as well.” Tony nodded and drew closer to him. Alerted, Bruce tried to back away, but then Tony began to pick invisible lint from the lapels of Wayne's woolen coat with a look of concentration. “Sure, sure. Have a safe trip you two. Bring wine gums along.”

“Thank you. I doubt I will.”

“Kiss me goodbye?”

“Neither.”

“Too bad. Bye, Mister W.”

“Goodbye, Mister Stark.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

As soon as the cab was out of sight, Tony turned away from the window and rubbed his hands. “Now, what's gonna be on the agenda? It's Sunday, and you guys have fall break as of tomorrow. That calls for a special." Damian was about to pipe up, but Tony pointed at him. “No occultism.” The small boy sunk back into the couch with a pout. Richard did the splits and thought out loud. “We just had movie night.”  
  
Tim nodded along, as did Tony, before the latter grimaced at Richard's contortions. “Stop that, kiddo, my balls are hurting just from watching you.” The artistic boy grinned and twisted into a back-bend to look at them from upside down. "Can't we do a little activity game?" Stark threw a pillow into his direction. "It's pouring outside in case you haven't noticed, Gumby." Damian raised his head from the sofa and threw them a serious glance.

"The house is big enough."

Tim grabbed the remaining pillows to use them as makeshift drums. “We could have a huge concert.” Damian groaned out his obvious distaste. Tony snatched a pillow from Tim's lap and threw it at the youngest Wayne heir. "Music is a staple, but if you guys like to move it move it...” He paused with a sudden, quite rascal grin from ear to ear. "Any of you ever watched the 24 hours of Le Mans?"

+

Two days later, a very tired Bruce Wayne arrived back at his Manor. Jet-lagged and looking forward to a nice, relaxing hot bath and an early night, he left it to Alfred to take care of the luggage and the payment of their airport taxi. Bruce ventured forward and turned the keys in the lock. The first thing that greeted him were not his three sons waiting in line to welcome their father, but a trail of popcorn on the floor instead.

From far away, bass-laden music reverberated through the ancient mansion. Wayne's eyes narrowed in growing suspicion even before sounds approached the foyer. They consisted of yelling and laughter, and... wheels on expensive, antique oak boards? Just then, the delegation in question raced around the corner.

Leading the pack was Tim on his BMX bike, followed by Richard on a skateboard. He was holding precariously onto one of Tim's sleeves, swerving back and forth. Behind them, Tony Stark drew wide arcs on a pair of inline skates. Damian sat high up on his shoulders, wearing a motocross helmet and wielding a huge neon green water gun around. War cries faded when the intruders were spotted.

Tony kept a hold on his piggybacking charge as he spun to a stop. “Whoops, you're back early. Couldn't you have called or something?” Standing there in his overcoat, weekender in one hand, Bruce Wayne's face darkened. “Water pistols inside the house?” Tony squinted upward to the dripping item in Damian's hands. “Super Soaker Zombie Strike Revenge Blasters, to be exact.”  
  
“Mister STARK!!”

Said man bent down to let the youngest get back on solid ground. No sooner than that, all boys made a beeline for upstairs. Tony cast them a rotten stare before he focused on the fuming countenance in front. “C'mon, nothing bad happened. We were just having fun. Stop being so bland and boring.” A vein on Bruce's temple began to protrude. “Opposed to certain other individuals present, I know how to behave like an adult!”

Stark tried to put his arms akimbo, which had a rather comical effect since he was fighting against rolling forward on polished floors. “And I have told you before that you need to loosen up and socialize more. If the boys had more friends and opportunities to meet people, I wouldn't have to resort to such drastic means of entertainment!”

Alfred Pennyworth's arrival and calm nature prevented a further escalation.  
Bruce Wayne stormed off to the second floor to have a word with his bratty sons.  
Tony Stark spent the rest of the evening picking popcorn from the gaps between the sofa cushions.  
  
+

Once the butler sought out his protege in his private quarters, he found Bruce Wayne brooding in an armchair by the window. He was showered and dressed in a bathrobe, bare feet hidden inside a pair of warm slippers. Wayne took the proffered mug of herbal tea with a thankful nod but kept staring ahead.

“Am I too bland and boring, Alfred?”

“Well, Sir, certain aspects of your life beg to differ, but...”

A cynical smile crossed Bruce's lips.  
“Understood.”  
He took a careful sip from the steaming mug. Pennyworth tilted his head.

“I think that Mister Stark might have a point, however.”  
  
+

The next morning, things had calmed down enough for the Wayne family and their nanny to sit down over a rich selection of pancakes, waffles, and variants of fruits to have breakfast together. The boys, still reeling from their father's thunderous tirade the previous evening, behaved like picture perfect until Tim dared to drum his knife and fork against the edge of the table. Tony gave him the evil eye, Tim just stared back.

"Silentium ferre non possum." [I can't stand the silence.]  
Stark arched an eyebrow and tilted his chin towards the man at the head of the table who was hidden behind the newspaper.  
"Libera te ex inferis." [Save yourself from hell.]

Damian made a move to lick his knife clean of Nutella, but even without looking, Tony reached out and took it from him. It was then that the newspaper rustled. After he had finished the business section of the Gotham Times, Bruce Wayne put it aside and looked across the vast table. "I have an announcement to make." Five curious pairs of eyes rested upon him. Bruce stood up and looked into the round with determination.  
  
"Wayne Manor is going to hold a charity auction this Friday evening."

Now those five pairs of eyes looked at each other, mirroring confusion and concern. Bruce slapped an emphatic hand on Pennyworth's shoulder in passing. “Time to dust off the fine china, Alfred, we're expecting company!” Once Wayne had left the room, the butler turned to Tony with a deadpan expression. “Thirty years and he still thinks company excites me.” Stark gave a slow, disbelieving nod-and-blink combo.

He nevertheless managed to finally divest Tim of his cutlery that was being misused again.  
The boy glowered at him to which Tony simply bared his teeth in a mock-smile.  
"Profligat improvisum." [unexpected defeats]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One true quote from The Nanny found its way into this one (= Bruce's and Alfred's talk about the company that is to be expected. I loved Niles expression in that scene so much!)


	16. Chapter 16

  
Feeling the need to inquire about Wayne's sudden change of heart, Tony went to seek out his employer after sending the boys off to their individual leisure time activities. Meanwhile, the billionaire had donned a sleek charcoal business suit and was about to leave his office, phone in one hand, car keys in the other. Tony lingered in the doorway, swinging back and forth on braced arms.

"Very funny, you almost managed to get us good there."  
Wayne glimpsed up from the display.  
"What are you talking about, Mister Stark?"  
  
"That joke you made. About the party on Friday."  
  
"That was not a joke."

"Wasn't..."

"No."

Stark stared off into the distance for a brief moment. Then his features morphed into honest delight. "Okay, fine with me. I can't wait to get all spruced up." Bruce's smirk turned slightly sardonic as he pocketed his phone. "You? Who said you would be attending as well?" Tony stepped aside to let him exit the room. He trailed close behind, palming his bearded chin with a mischievous expression.

"Ahh, you want to keep me locked away like the evil stepmother in Cinderella. But who is going to take care of the boys then while you mingle and schmooze? Al's on catering duty as you probably know." Wayne did not even make an attempt to look over his shoulder. "I do not plan on including them either. This is way beyond their bedtimes." It was then that Tony jumped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

"C'mon now, they don't even have school at the moment. Plus, it'll be so efficient to have them around - think about the way it's gonna pull at people's heartstrings and wallets." The Gotham billionaire and he locked eyes. Tony gave an enticing, almost challenging wiggle of his eyebrows. Wayne then exhaled through half-opened lips. "If they attend, it is your very own responsibility to ensure they behave. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Stepping aside, Stark brought his heels together and gave him a perfect, if slightly mocking salute.  
  
"Righty-O, Sir, Mister Wayne, Sir."

+

The evening of the party arrived, and the Manor was gleaming in all of its Victorian glory. Alfred and two dozens of servants and hired assistants were bustling around, putting the final touches to the buffet and the parking lot organization. About 100 guests had responded to the invitation, more than expected.

When Tony Stark stepped down the huge staircase in a tailored tux with shiny black dress shoes for the first time, his unruly locks neatly combed back and his trademark scruff trimmed into an accurate goatee, it threw everyone for a loop. The boys, dressed and trying not to fidget in their formal getup, erupted in whistles and cheers.

“Wow!”

“You look real rad, Tony.”

“Kick-ass.”

At that, Tony held up a stern finger into Damian's unfazed direction. It was then that he caught sight of Bruce Wayne standing in the doorway of the foyer, staring at him. “How do I look, Mister Wayne?” Tony's voice held an enticing timbre as he spread his arms open wide. Bruce stared on for two more seconds. “... very good.” There was a small hitch at the beginning of his sentence and he swallowed.

With an extra swagger in his stride, Tony descended the final flight of stairs and joined them in the grand foyer. He proceeded to give each boy an approving once-over and patted down Tim and Damian for any hidden gizmos in the form of drumsticks or glibber. Upon finding none, he turned to Richard. “No Tarzan stunts tonight or the drive-in movie night with Babs is going to...”

He made a sailing motion into the direction of the windows. At that, Bruce Wayne perked up from the back. “Drive-in movie night?” All suave, Tony turned to him. “Ah, semantics.” Before Wayne was able to object, Alfred's footsteps echoed on marble tiles. “The first guests have arrived, Sir.” Bruce jabbed a finger into Tony's direction. “Later.” He then turned around, all charming and smiles at the sight of an elder couple.

“Mrs. Klass, Mayor Klass, welcome! Such a pleasure.”

Stark kept an eye on the boys as they stood in a row and politely greeted the guests while Alfred gave him an overview on the who's who of Gotham's upper class. Pennyworth's dry humor was a perfect match for Tony's sarcasm, and they had analyzed and categorized the whole entourage after not even 15 minutes.

Richard, Tim, and Damian behaved like poster boys for the first half an hour. When they became antsy, Tony went and sneaked them food from the not-yet opened buffet and ushered them into a separate room to eat. Once they were fed and too tired to cause mayhem, he brought them in to mingle with the crowd. They earned a lot of rapturous cooing and praise from the guests, and Tony shot Bruce a triumphant look.

It did, however, not take long for the boys to have enough of being party monkeys. After Richard got his cheeks pinched a dozen times, Tim had his hair ruffled twice as much, and Damian's best withering stare was labeled cute and adorable, they asked their father to leave. Once they had gotten an official okay, Stark appeared at Wayne's side with a smug expression. “See? Worked like a charm. Told ya.”

Bruce looked like he was trying hard to find something to gripe about. “This is what I am paying you for.” A benign smile. “No need to thank me, Mister W. I know I'm good. Imma go tuck them in, then the fun part can begin.” Wayne sipped from his glass of non-specified, amber-colored liquid, his face even. “Your services are no longer required. You may go and retire for the night.” Tony looked at him as if he misheard.

The Gothamite held his gaze, causing Tony's brows to furrow in disdain. “Boo for that. I haven't even gotten around to eating.” Wayne downed his drink and pressed the empty glass into Tony's hands with a suave smile. "Feel free to take something upstairs where you can enjoy the rest of your free evening.” Stark grumbled along as he disposed of the glass and followed the three boys out of the ballroom. “That's gratitude for you.”

+

By the time Tony returned to pick up his promised plate of food, the event was at its height. Standing in line at the buffet, Stark was surprised to find its host had turned all flirty and outgoing in his absence. Also, Wayne seemed rather taken by a tall, black-haired man in an ill-fitting suit, which irked Tony even more. Appetite forgotten, he meandered over to where Alfred was busy instructing the staff.  
  
“...if that nerdy beefcake doesn’t stop hitting him up, I'm gonna be hitting him down.”  
The butler kept on coordinating waiters with trays and only cast their venting nanny a pitiful glance.  
“Oh, but there has got to be another way than relenting to mindless violence, Mister Stark.”  
  
“Yeah, course. I mean, I'd never go cause a ruckus like that, but...”

“I actually meant that you would not stand a chance, two minutes in.”

By now, Tony knew about British humor, and the way Alfred said it without any facial expression while he kept on uncorking bottles of champagne made him grin despite his foul mood. “Al, Al, Al, you evil Dustbuster, you. Hey, can't you go and put some laxatives in beefcake's drink or something? For me?” The butler threw him a look that spoke volumes and left to make his dignified way through the crowd.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Miffed at Bruce’s ongoing lack of attention and interest in his person, Tony Stark went to find solace at the bar in the corner of the ballroom. There, a man with a distinctive bald head sat and browsed his phone. Tony ordered a shot of Dalmore whiskey, which made the man look up and pocket his device. Once he held a tumbler with reddish-orange hued liquid in his hands, the man cleared his throat.

“Finally someone with a taste in good whiskey.”  
  
They toasted each other before Stark looked at the drink in his hand. “I usually prefer the 15-year one instead of the 12-year one, but apparently, so did others before me.” The man leaned in with a mischievous expression and swirled his drink. “Guilty, Your Honor.” Tony clicked his tongue and took another sip from his glass. “Too bad. Hope you enjoy it just the same way I would.” The man inclined his head and put the glass aside.  
  
“And who might you be?”  
  
“Stark. Tony Stark. I am Mister Wayne's nanny.”  
  
A that, the bald man broke into a belly laugh. “I didn't know Bruce still needed a nanny. A lot of things are beginning to add up.” Before Tony, his cheeks burning, was able to correct his mistake, the man waved him off. “Lex Luthor. From Metropolis. You might have heard my name around the Wayne household.” Never known for false pretense or sugarcoating small talk, Tony shrugged with regained confidence. “Matter of fact no.”  
  
Luthor chuckled, this time less audible but somehow even more amused than before.  
  
“Refreshingly honest. I like you. Are you part of the auction, too?”

“Am I... no. Why would I?”

“Good nannies are rare. In fact my son, Alexander Luthor Jr., needs one since our last one has gone.”  
  
“She quit?”

“She died. Heart attack. At 40.”  
  
Tony gulped and took another swig from his whiskey. “Nothing better than a fun story to lighten up any party.” Luthor looked nothing short of unapologetic as he pulled out his phone and searched for a picture to show to Tony. “I told Alexander not to keep his pet tarantulas out of their terrarium. He's a good boy, but he is bad with keeping his room tidy. That's him with his two favorite pets. Hairy little beasts, aren't they?”

A shudder ran down Tony's back at the picture of the giant spiders sitting on each of a red-haired boy's arms. He looked to be about Tim's age, but something on his face spoke of a sadistic, hidden nature. “Very cute.” Pleased at the lackadaisical praise, Luthor pocketed his phone again and searched for Tony's gaze. “The two of you would get along just splendidly.”

Lex grinned at him with something that made Tony uncomfortable. While he mimicked it, his gaze darted around, looking for a gallant way to escape. It was just then that he met Bruce Wayne's eyes. The latter was about to head for another couple, but stopped at the peculiar scenery with a deep frown upon his face. Inwardly fist-pumping, Stark adopted a casual, almost flirty stance and focused back on his company.

Sipping from his drink, he then leaned in towards Luthor, one elbow on the bar. “A good nanny knows how to deal with anything, spiders included.” The bald man raised his glass with a satisfied expression. “Let's drink to that.” Tony clinked his glass against it and downed the rest of his single malt. It was then that Bruce Wayne stepped up in between them, still suave but with a hint of annoyance lurking behind his facade.

“Mister Stark, I thought I had already given you the rest of the evening off.”  
  
Before Tony was able to answer, Lex Luthor chuckled and put his glass down. A beefy hand came up to land on Tony's shoulder. Wayne's eyes narrowed. “Oh, Brucie, always such a stickler for rules. Look what you've managed to hide from me. A true gem.” His fingers kneaded into Tony's skin at the last words. Something fiery lit up behind Wayne's stoic facade. It made Luthor remove his hand.

“Also, your nanny is about to offer his services for a day. I am going to bid upon him.”

It was not what Tony had in mind, but from the look of forced compliance on Wayne's face, it went well with his secret plan to make him jealous. All sugary-sweet grin, Tony adjusted his bow tie and squared his shoulders. Then he looked at Luthor. “Why don't we get a little air and discuss my future appointment in Metropolis, Lex?” Luthor slid from the bar stool and was suddenly a good four inches taller than Tony.

He reached into his pocket and held out a slim, silvery case into Tony's direction. “Cohiba?” With a grin, Stark pulled out one of the cigars from the portable humidor. “I am off the clock, of course, otherwise I wouldn't dream of smoking.” Sticking the tobacco oblong in between his lips, Tony smirked at his glowering employer. “I'll see you at the auction, Mister W.” With narrowed eyes, Bruce watched Lex Luthor steer him outside.

One hand again was wrapped firmly around Stark's shoulder, and Bruce's right hand formed a fist. The elder couple he had meant to greet then approached him, and he was quick to unclench his fingers and morph his features back into a friendly simper.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Out on the vast terrace, the sounds of chatter and violin music soon faded into the background. Luthor produced a lighter and motioned for Tony to lean in close. In no time, they were surrounded by small puffs of smoke. Tony tried to cover his first bout of coughing, but Luthor noticed and grinned at him. “Judging from experience, you must be fairly new in Gotham.”

“Couple of months. I'm from New York.”

“And what made you leave the Big Apple to come work for this loser Wayne?”  
  
The blunt insult came out of nowhere. Tony again coughed around the cigar and blinked several times.  
“Whoa, there, now wait a second. Mister Wayne is not a loser. His company is huge and successful.”  
Luthor's self-assured smirk began to rile Tony up the longer he watched him blow smoke into the night.  
  
“No need to take sides, he cannot hear you out here. But I forgive you since you probably haven't heard about his failed fusion reactor project that not only cost millions of dollars, but also a few hundred jobs. Man's so incompetent, he's the laughing stock of the east coast. He should stick to pitiful fundraisers like this one.” Tony's jaw worked during Luthor's breezy tirade and his brows furrowed in subliminal anger.

Eventually, he took the cigar from his mouth and dunked it into a nearby potted plant. “A real shame you feel that way. I guess I'm not the right person for your son after all. Excuse me, but I have to go. My employer said I can take the rest of the evening off.” Lex clamped his cigar into the corner of his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest. Then he tutted.  
  
“A real shame you're hell-bent on working for a weird recluse.”  
With gritted teeth, Tony looked him up and down.  
“A real shame nobody asked for your dickhead opinion.”  
  
At his matter-of-fact retort, Luthor's hand shot out, lightning-fast, to grab him by the arm before he could leave. His fingers were like steel around Tony's biceps. “I could show you what real power play is like. How real business is done. Come to Metropolis. Whatever you make here, you'd be making threefold with me.” With a forceful yank his opposite had most likely not anticipated, Tony tore himself free.

“Good night, Mister Luthor.”  
Shaken by the incident, Tony made a beeline for the patio doors and almost collided with a broad chest.  
"Are you alright?”

Wayne's voice was gruff. Tony nodded and forced his breathing down. “Yeah, I'm... okay. Cigars are not my thing. Guess I'll... I'll call it a day now. Don't want to puke on your guests.” The Gothamite's eyes scanned him from head to toe and rested on his face, looking for something. “I thought you wanted to set yourself up for the auction.” It was meant to sound sarcastic, but there was something else swinging inside his words.

Movement from the terrace then made Tony's eyes dart over to the patio doors, holding a touch of panic.  
“Yeah, no, I don't think that's a good idea, I mean I hate spiders and... yeah, whatever. G--good night, Mister W.”  
He was quick to hurry away. Bruce Wayne followed him with his eyes until he had disappeared upstairs.  
  
+  
  
When the last guests had finally left, the whole house lay quiet a little after 2:30 am. With the kids fast asleep and Alfred having retired for the night, Tony stumbled into the kitchen, looking for a snack to soothe his troubled, empty stomach. Switching on the small lamp of the chrome range hood, he rummaged around the fridge for the longest time, inching several items onto the nearby kitchen counter.  
  
When he closed the massive door, the stoic countenance of Bruce Wayne without his glasses stood behind it. His hair looked freshly washed and hung all over his forehead, fluffy instead of gelled back. Suppressing the scream of fright that wanted to escape his lungs, Tony stumbled back and grabbed his chest. “HOLY F... riggin damnit, SHEESH! What are you doing?? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

All taciturn, Wayne watched him lean against the kitchen counter with a deep exhale and collect himself. Like Tony, the billionaire was dressed in a plain shirt and pajama pants, feet bare against the kitchen floor tiles. “Has Luthor done anything inappropriate tonight?” Tony averted his gaze and turned to his forgotten ham and cheese sandwich. “Straight to the point, gotta give you that.” His fingers were still slightly shaking.

Wayne kept on staring at him with the same unwavering stare, so Tony eventually sighed and put the knife aside. “But no, it was just a... I don't know. He got a little rude and... that's that.” The Gothamite stepped closer. Opposed to Luthor, his proximity did not make Tony feel uncomfortable. When he looked up at him, he saw how Bruce Wayne’s eyes now rested on his upper arm.

“I don't like the look of _that_.” He scowled at the purplish bruising. Composure back in place, Stark waved him off and stacked ham and cheese on two pieces of toast. “It’s nothing. You'll continue to have me on your payroll for the upcoming time, so no worries there.” Tony then tried for a cheeky grin, even if it came out a bit forced. “But only because you are not smoking those awful, smelly cigars.”  
  
Wayne leaned one shoulder against the fridge. “Is that what it is.” He had to move when Tony shooed him aside to place butter, cheese, and ham back inside. “Mhm.” When the door fell shut, they were standing almost toe to toe. “And you are considerate and not gaudy. Though seeing you all flirty at the party was, well...” He left the sentence in the open. Wayne put a hand on the fridge door, next to Tony's head, and tilted his head.

“Was what?”  
Their eyes darted in between each other for the longest time. Then Stark smirked.  
“Weird.”  
  
Taken aback at the curt response, Bruce blinked twice. “Weird?” With an emphatic nod, Tony patted down on the sandwich. “Alfred could have polished all of the Manor's floors with the charm you were oozing.” Wayne raised his chin, narrowed his eyes, and put up a regal look. “Wasn't it you who wanted me to be more outgoing and socializing?” Tony turned his attention from the sandwich back to him.

“Why, yes. But I was thinking more along the lines of a... smaller circle of people to begin with.” His eyes roamed all over Wayne's face, rested upon his lips, and traveled back up to his unguarded, bare eyes. “How small?” Bruce's breath was warm on Tony's cheeks. The latter reached up with a hand and held up two fingers which he then lightly brushed against the taller man's bottom lip.

In slow motion, Bruce leaned in and Tony raised his head.  
Before their mouths met, the kitchen's overhead lights came on.  
The sudden change in luminance caused them to separate with a hiss.

“What are you doing here?”  
Damian's voice was sleepy but petulant. Tony squinted and put his arms akimbo.  
“What are _you_ doing here?”

“I am hungry.”

Tony held up his sandwich. “Here you go, Lord Hades. But rinse your mouth afterwards. And where are your slippers? Oh, boy. C'mon now, off with you, before you catch a cold.” He shooed the boy upstairs as the latter munched. One final look back revealed an unfathomable expression on the billionaire's face.

 


	19. Chapter 19

One grizzly morning mid-November, Tony sauntered into his boss' office. As usual, he gave a distinctive rap on the door only to open it immediately after. "Why haven't you told me?!" At the overly-dramatic entrance, Bruce Wayne slowly raised his eyes from his notebook. He did, however, not stop typing. "I told you a couple of times to knock and wait, but it seems to be a hopeless case."  
  
Unperturbed, Tony kicked the door shut with an agile move of his heel and strutted closer to the desk. "Not that. The estranged member of the family I've just learned about." At that, Wayne's fingers came to a stop and his gaze turned several shades icier. "That's none of your business, Mister Stark." At the hostility in his tone, Tony's hopped onto his favorite spot on the left side of the desk and crossed his legs.

"Here's where you're wrong, Mister W. I'm the nanny of this family, and if there's another family member out there, then we should go and invite him for Thanksgiving. Isn't that just the best way of burying the hatchet? Over comfort food and booze?" His bubbly demeanor caused Bruce's eyes to narrow. “Jason has willingly turned his back on this house.” Tony jiggled a sneakers-clad foot. “I could go seek him out, he doesn't know me.”  
  
Wayne scowled down at the bouncing foot.  
“I do not wish for you to interfere. He's got a lot of anger management issues.”  
“So do I.”

At that, Bruce gave him a pointed look. Tony was quick to give a jaunty wave. "But I got over it with exercise and the right nutrition and stuff. I'm the poster boy for chill behavior. Can you stop squinting at me?" The Gothamite eventually leaned back in his chair and adjusted his glasses. “Jason was born on to a pair of methamphetamine addicts who were in debt to the local mafia.” Stark hummed. “And you took him in.” Wayne negated.

“I met him when he was 15 - a troubled soul roaming the streets, stealing hubcaps and committing crimes. I still saw his potential and he agreed to attend a Wayne Industries project that worked on placing troubled teens into schools.” Tony cast him a curious look when he fell short of further explanations. “And?” Bruce set his jaw and stared at something in the distance. “Somewhere along those past four years, something went wrong.”

Stark cupped his chin with a quizzical expression. “In the way that his adolescent testosterone levels caused him to butt heads with the alpha-male, yours truly?” All saturnine, Wayne crossed his arms over his chest. “In the way that he completely abhors me.” He sounded so convinced that Tony forbid the snort of laughter to escape his lips. “Now you're just being melodramatic. Let me try to mend his troubled soul.”  
  
Mouth grim, Wayne kept on frowning at his notebook until he uncrossed his arms and tapped a key. “Don't say I didn't warn you.” His gaze did not meet that of the other man. A slow grin spread out on Tony's features. “That's not a no.”

+

Tony found the boy in question loitering around an otherwise empty playground down in Red Hook, Midtown two weeks later. He was sitting up on the backrest of a bank, feet on the seating area. From afar, he watched the 19-year-old reach into the pockets of his well-worn jacket to produce a cigarette. It was then that Tony sauntered closer, hands in his pockets against the cold November wind.  
  
“You must be Jason.”  
With a click of a lighter, smoke wafted into the air soon after.  
“Depends on who's asking.”

Stark positioned himself right in front of him and took his hands out of his pockets. “Let's just say I'm close with your brothers and father. Name’s Tony Stark.” Jason gave him a once-over and took another drag of his cigarette. His fingerless gloves were made from thinly-woven fabric. "You ain't family." Tony pulled a lopsided smirk and gave a huff that was visible in the cold air.

"I'm the nanny. And before you start guffawing, I've had my share of ridicule, and I'm drying my tears with my big fat paycheck each month." The adolescent snorted but refrained from a comment. He looked past Tony and curled his mouth. “Did the cantankerous old man send you to make amends, Nanny Stark?” At the mental image of Bruce, Stark chucked. “Great description, though actually not true. Mind if I sit?”

Jason gave a nasty smirk around his chewing gum and flicked ash into the wind. “It's a free country.” Tony mimicked his stance and hunkered down on the slim, wooden headrest. "Speaking of which - are you free at 2 pm this upcoming Thursday? There's a big Thanksgiving feast at the Manor with more grub than any of us can wolf down." A cloud of smoke expelled from Jason's mouth. "Not interested."

Stark pushed his knitted beanie hat higher up his head and tsked.  
"So you'd rather be down for some grub at Soup Kitchen? That's kinda stupid if you ask me."  
Watching the boy's profile, Tony saw Jason's eyes narrow.

"You're kinda cocky for a male nanny."  
Tony gave an affirmative hum and rubbed his gloved hands together.  
"Wonder why you haven't bothered beating me up so far, given your anger management issues."  
  
That brought him a low but fairly amused snort even if Jason still avoided eye contact.  
“I kinda like your no-shit-guy attitude.”  
“Your father's not that different.”  
  
At that, Todd harrumphed with audible disdain.  
“He's a manipulative bastard. Big difference.”  
Tony looked up from the barren ground at their feet.  
  
“Why do you hate him so much?”  
That time, the boy turned his head to look him square in the eyes.  
“For becoming who he is.”

At the harsh reply, Tony pursed his lips and bobbed his head as he let it sink in.  
“Okay, fair enough. Look, even if it's not for your dad, come by on Thanksgiving. For your brothers.”  
Jason spat the gum into the trashcan next to the bank and jumped to his feet.

“We'll see.”  
  
+

Jason did not show up. Tony made everyone wait for an extra half an hour, but Alfred had the food ready at some point, so they all gathered in the large dining room at 2:30 pm, the mood glum. The boys looked at the place that remained empty, and their youngest flat out cursed at Alfred when the turkey was being served. “Damian!” Bruce's stern voice and his hand slamming on the table echoed through the room.

Still enraged, the boy was about to throw a silver plate. Tony who sat next to him was quick enough to snatch the expensive plate from his hands before it went flying. “Dami, Dami, Dami – homicidal much?” His voice was calm. “I am a vegetarian!” Tim stopped shoveling sauteed green beans onto his plate and cast him a snide glance. “Since when? Last night?” Bruce cast him a reproaching glare.  
  
“You stay out of this.”  
"Why, because I'm just adopted?”  
At the audacious retort, Wayne Sr.'s eyes narrowed with simmering anger.  
  
“Timothy.”  
His voice was low and dangerous. Richard dropped the spoon into the sauce.  
“I should've gone over to Babs' house and eat with the Gordons.”

“Some family dinner this is.”  
  
The sarcastic voice from behind made everyone turn and look around. Standing in the doorway, backpack thrown over a shoulder, Jason Todd stood with a lopsided smirk. “Nanny Stark said there'll be enough grub for one more.” Tony rose from his chair with an alleviated expression. “There is.” Jason walked over to the chair Tony pointed at, never taking his eyes off the man at the end of the table.

Stark held his breath as Wayne and Todd eyed each other for the longest time. Eventually, the billionaire gave the slightest tilt of his head.  
  
“Jason.”  
The boy plopped down and stretched his lips into a cocky smirk.  
“Bruce.”

By now, Richard, Tim, and Damian had stopped eating and regarded their elder brother in amazement.  
Tony then snapped his fingers to get their attention.  
“Okay now, everybody - dig in before it’s getting cold.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

It was around 5 pm when the last remains of food had been brought back into the kitchen and the Waynes and their nanny had retired to the adjacent library for pumpkin pie and drinks. The fireplace in the corner had been lit, and Bruce and Tony were sitting in the wing chairs while the boys were lounging on the couch.

Richard texted with Barbara on his mobile, feet up on the headrest, while Tim browsed through the TV program, albeit on mute, and Damian was on his stomach, reading on a tablet. Jason was outside on the balcony for a smoke and when he came back inside, a gust of cold, tobacco-flavored air accompanied him.

“You should cut down on your nicotine intake. This is the sixth cigarette in an hour.” Bruce’s voice was quiet but full of disdain. Jason reached for his glass of liquor and held it up before he downed it in one sitting. “To good health then. And to all this festive family shit.” Damian giggled until a stern glance from Tony made him stop and scowl instead. Jason walked around the couch and snatched Richard’s phone from his hands.

“Hey!”

The older boy skimmed across the display and grinned. “Dicky, Dicky, Dicky. You little Casanova, you.” Flushing beet-red, Richard shifted upward to lunge at his brother. “Give it back!” Before either Bruce or Tony had to intervene, Jason dropped the phone back into his lap. He then ruffled Tim’s hair when the boy clutched tight onto the remote control. “Are you waiting for your My Little Pony cartoon, Timmy?”

Tim made an evading motion of his head. “Non est vobis necesse hoc intellegere!” [It is not necessary for you to understand!] At that, Jason let out a mean-sounding laugh, only to curl his fist into Tim’s hair and pull until they were eye to eye. “I don’t speak your Latin shit, but if you just insulted my intelligence…” Tim squealed out once, incensed, and tried to break free. “Did not!”

“Let it go, Jason.”

Bruce’s voice left no space to argue. Todd did as he was told, and Tim stuck his tongue out at him. Jason grinned back, incident already forgotten. “I really missed all of you little punks.” To reinforce his statement, he reached for the brandy that had served as a digestif and drank straight from the bottle. “I think this calls for a speech.” By now, Bruce Wayne had inched forward toward the edge of the seat, palms curled around its armrests.

“I think you should sit down, Jason. Don’t do anything rash.”

Tony glimpsed over and saw how tight Wayne’s jaw was clenched. Todd, however, was oblivious to the tension. He walked around the couch, took another swig of the brandy, and pointed at the coiled up billionaire. “Rash? Like you, when you kicked me out from one day to the other?” Bruce’s knuckles turned white from the force he was gripping the chair with.

“The fact that you are here shows I am willing to make amends, even if you made it very clear that you never wanted to set a foot into this - and I quote - ‘shithole’ again.” Tony, Richard, Tim, and Damian gaped while Jason tutted. It prompted a muscle on Bruce’s cheek to twitch. "Oh, Bruce. Rich-as-fuck Bruce Wayne. Righteous prick to a fault. You don't know how much you suck at this bygones be bygones game, although-"

He emptied the bottle and put it aside with a satisfied hiss. His eyes, blazing from both audacity and alcohol, found those of the billionaire again. "- you're quite an expert when it comes to the bi-part, no?” Wayne rose to his feet in one swift, fluid motion. "You better cut it out now, Jason." Alarmed, Tony also stood up, but neither Wayne nor Todd noticed. Instead, Jason sneered at his surrogate father.

“Why, you're so good at this two-way charade, you should be proud of yourself. Living the best of both worlds, so to speak. Not many people can.” Bruce's jaw was clenched tight, as were his fists. “Shut. Up.” Jason snarled right back at him. "Make me." The boys watched the exchange with baited breath. Tony held up a hand and dared to step in between the two circling men. “I think now’s the perfect time for a little walk outside to…”  
  
He was just in time to jump out of the way when Bruce lunged for his disobedient son.

+  
  
“Well.”  
Tony stood, arms akimbo, and regarded the scenery in front of him.  
“That was not how I pictured things to turn out, but to each their own.”

Bruce Wayne sat, nursing a nose plug in one of his nostrils, and grimaced up at him. On the couch in the back, Jason Todd was snoring peacefully into the cushions. After he had thrown up on Bruce’s shoes, things had de-escalated enough for Tony and an interfering Alfred to step in and split the brawl up.

Richard, Tim, and Damian, who had alternated between cheering either their father or their brother, had been sent upstairs to go brush their teeth, though not without complaints at missing out the rest of the, as Tim had dubbed it, Celebrity Death Match.

“Better’n’xpected.”

It sounded nasal and Tony rolled his eyes. “Some sort of dysfunctional family this is. Now that you’ve gone and beat each other’s noses bloody, he accepts staying over for the Holidays. This is some seriously wacko Freudian stuff you guys need to look into, let me tell you.”

+  
  
Much later, when Jason had slept his drunken stupor off enough to request another portion of gravy and potatoes, he joined Tony and the boys in the arcade room. Bruce Wayne had retreated to his office to work despite the holidays, and Alfred was busy trying to get the dried up vomit stains out off the library’s carpet.

Tony handed his wireless PlayStation controller over to Richard, who took on his chosen Audi R8 LMS and his current third place at Gran Turismo Sport with vigor and reached for a cupboard to fetch a linen napkin. He all but threw the item onto the hungover boy’s lap, urging him to put it under his plate of food and swept his feet off the coffee table. "Bruce deserves a medal for dealing with you, y'know?"  
  
Jason snorted and twirled the knife in between nimble fingers. "Nah, he deserves a good tongue punch in the fart box, that's what." All curious, Damian's head perked up from where he had been reading comics on the floor. "What does that mean?” Before Jason could open his mouth to elaborate, Tony covered the young boy's ears. In a swift move, he then swept him off the floor and threw him over his shoulder.

“That means time for bed.”

With a mischievous grin, Jason waved at the boy who glowered at him from atop Tony's shoulder.  



	21. Chapter 21

It was the second week of December, and Gotham was still waiting for the first snow of the year to fall.

Bruce Wayne stood at the window of his study room, a warm fire crackling in the back, and watched the spectacle outside. There was a knock on the door, then Alfred Pennyworth joined his side after placing a tray with tea and biscuits on the table. For a while, they watched the five people down in the yard, all bundled up in warm vests and woolen hats, setting up a baseball match.

Tony was instructing the boys before he went and helped Damian take up a correct pitcher stance. Tim and Richard were just waiting for Jason to hit the ball; to either catch it or sprint to the next base. “He is good for them.” Bruce nodded along, a small smile lurking on the edge of his mouth. “Jason has moments where he can truly fill out the role of a big brother.” Alfred threw him an amicable if slightly reprising glance.  
  
“I meant Mister Stark.”  
  
Just then, somewhere down to the right, the loud shattering sound of glass could be heard.  
Downstairs, the distinctive silhouette of Mister Stark stood and gave a very distinctive shrug.  
Bruce Wayne slowly exhaled through his nose and reached up to rub its bridge between two fingers.  
  
“Alfred...”  
The butler gave a dignified nod.  
“I will see to find a glazier despite the upcoming holidays, Sir.”

+

Tony stared at the calendar on the wall with dull eyes. December 17th. Over the hullabaloo of Jason’s arrival and stay at the Manor, he had almost completely forgotten about it. Until the date stared back at him in big black letters. He swallowed, rubbed his face, and went about as if nothing was wrong for the rest of the day, keeping a cheeky facade until the boys and their father had settled in for the night.

It turned out to be Alfred Pennyworth who found him in the kitchen, way after midnight, on his sixth shot of bourbon.

“Is there a reason for drinking yourself to death?”  
Mirthless smirk on display, Tony chugged another shot.  
“Yup.”

Alfred remained silent and went on getting a mug from the cupboard. Tony eyed him with suspicion. “Ain’t'cha gonna tell me to stop? Or urge me to tell you all about those reasons?” Busy rummaging through the rich selection of teas in a nearby drawer, the elder man did not meet his gaze. “One thing you learn as a butler is to never interfere with personal matters unless being asked to.”

He went to fill the electric kettle and switched it on. Stark let his words sink in all the while thumbing over the smooth rim of his glass. “Neat.” They lapsed into silence once again until Tony inhaled through his nose. “Y'know, Al, Misser W. can be lucky you’re takin' care of him like a livin' diamond.” Alfred wiped down a few droplets of water from the counter and threw him a brief look.

“I would not dare to argue upon that, Sir.”  
Tony nodded along, mostly to himself.  
“Though I dunno why. He sure doesn’t seem to appreciate it.”  
  
At that, Pennyworth placed his palms flat on the kitchen counter. “Maybe having to watch his parents get killed in front of his 8-year-old self has something to do with it.” The butler's voice was low and grave. The kettle stopped brewing with a plop. Stark looked as stricken as if he had just kicked a puppy by incident. “Fuck.” Tony breathed out. “Fuck, I didn't know.” He pinched his eyes with a thumb and a forefinger.

“Don't tell him I'm an asshole, kay?”

Alfred's expression turned fatherly as he went to pour water into the mug with care. “Rest assured you are not, and that my lips are sealed, Sir.” The smile Tony cast him in return did not make it from his lips to his eyes. “My parents died in a car accident. Today, 14 years ago. Guess I would’ve benefited from an Alfred back in the days, too. Alas, I learned to rely on this kind of consolation.”

He tapped a finger against the whiskey. The elder butler then walked over to where he sat.  
“Just know that the two of you are worth being treated like living diamonds.”  
With that, Alfred took the bottle from him with gentle fingers.  
  
“Go to bed, Master Anthony.”

+

Tony stumbled through the darkened corridor of Wayne Manor, steadying himself on the wall when the ground was swaying too much for his liking. All the doors left and right were shut, and he squinted hard at the potted plant in the corner, trying to decipher whether he recognized it as something on his floor or not. Finally, he arrived at the end of the hallway and slipped into his room.

It was too dark to see, so Tony inched forward with outstretched arms until he bumped into the edge of the bed. After fumbling out of his shoes he slid under the covers. The space on his mattress was smaller than he remembered, so Tony simply curled up on his side and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

+

With a mumbled groan, Bruce Wayne turned onto his side, wincing at the resistance he encountered on the dipped-in mattress. When he lifted an eyelid, he came face to face with the sleeping countenance of none other than Tony Stark. His first instinct was to close it again and nestle deeper into the pillow. That instinct lasted less than a second. Upon a second examination, the picture remained the same.

Bruce Wayne sat up as if he had been burnt.  
“WHAT THE HECK?”  
It was then that Stark began to move.

"MISTER STARK!!"  
Said man's face twisted into a pain-filled grimace as he turned on his back and pulled the covers over his head.  
“Not. So. Loud. Ugh.”

“What are you doing here?!”

“Sleeping off my hangover until a few seconds in.”

The Gothamite crawled to the far end of his king-size bed and pulled the sheets with him. Stark's unruly hair re-appeared and he blinked owlishly into Bruce's direction. “Uhh, hi there. That five o'clock shadow looks hot. Ever thought about growing a beard?” Wayne palmed his chin and ran a hand over his hair to smother it down. “When did you get here?” Tony reached up to rub narrowed eyes.

“During the early morning hours? I dunno. You were sleeping like a stone. Or maybe I dreamed you were a stone. Huh. Your mattress is real comfy by the way.” Wayne glared daggers at him. “Get. Out.” About to sling back the covers, Tony paused to peep under the blanket and check his state of undress. Upon finding himself fully clothed, he looked at the glowering billionaire in his monogrammed, long-sleeved pajama.

“Damn, you're not sleeping naked. Pity. One more illusion gone with the wind.”

“OUT!”

The distinctive jangle and clink of a tea wagon outside then made them both freeze. The door opened after a small knock and a brief, mandatory waiting time. Alfred walked in, unperturbed at the sight of the men inside the bed, and parked the wagon nearby before he went to open the heavy brocade curtains with gusto.

“Good morning, Master Wayne, Mister Stark.”

While Stark winced at the noise the moving curtains made, Wayne's face adopted a fine shade of beet-red. With a mumbled greeting, Bruce slid back under the covers. Tony kept massaging his temples and eyed some kind of strange green concoction inside a tall glass. “Wassat?” The butler followed his gaze over to the tea wagon and clasped his hands behind his back.

“A wheatgrass smoothie with spinach, parsley, soaked chia seeds, and a tablespoon of Spirulina. Would you like one, too, Sir?” Stark made a gagging sound and covered his mouth. “Eww, egads, no. My headache has a headache. Is there a strong espresso with my name on it?” The butler inclined his head. “I will see to it.”

Bruce Wayne eventually threw him out to have his espresso downstairs.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Christmas Eve at Wayne Manor was very different from the previous years. Jason Todd kept everybody on their toes with his unpredictable ways of baking cookies with his brothers one day and bringing along a set of brand new tires the next. All suspicious, Tony inspected the pile in the foyer.

“Where did you get these?”

“Fell off a truck.”

“Bring em back.”

“They fit on a Lambo. Don't'cha still need a present for the Grinch of this Manor and his fancy ride?”  
Tony paused for the briefest of moments, intrigued, before shaking his head to himself.  
“Not without a decent set of rims. Bring em back.”

Watching the twen grumble as he hauled the tires into the back of his old and rusty Chevrolet 1500 pick up truck, Tony went back to his task of decorating the tree with stringed popcorn. By now he was well on his way to diminish the supplies by munching in a constant flow from the big bowl in between his legs. Alfred walked past him a few times, supplying him with more popcorn and putting a box full of ornaments at his feet.

“There have been a couple of Christmas cards and letters for you in the mail, Master Anthony.” Delighted, Tony swallowed his latest mouthful and pierced another bit of popcorn onto a long red thread. “Can you put 'em in the living room? I'll look at them when the presents are about to be opened.” The butler nodded. “Of course, Sir. If you just kindly stop eating the décor seeing dinner will be served in an hour.”

“Will do, Al.”

+

Alfred earned himself a lot of praise for his standing rib roast with mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans, homemade rolls, and gravy. There was a selection of apple, pumpkin, pecan and banana cream cake for dinner, and Tony made sure to try a slice of each. With full bellies, everyone then gathered around the decorated Christmas tree and its colorful assembly of wrapped gifts underneath. “Time for presents.”

Tony rubbed his hands but made sure to put a palm up on a small shoulder next to him. “Now, what have we agreed NOT to tell people who are opening presents from you?” Damian pouted for a good ten seconds but eventually chimed in as Tony repeated the forbidden sentence with him in unison. “Prepare to see something cursed that will haunt you forever.” Stark then nodded along and patted his head.

“Good boy.”

A great ruckus erupted when it came to unpacking presents. While Bruce and Alfred remained seated, the boys and Tony soon sat cross-legged on the carpet, swarmed by piles of wrapping paper and gift ribbons. With his new gold-black baseball hat featuring the Gotham Rogues logo firmly planted on his head, Tony then watched the boys rip open his presents for them.

Apart from a multitude of comic books and clothes, one of Tony's gifts was the fourth 'Just Dance' edition for their PlayStation. It caused great cheer and demanded an instant dance-off contest, so Jason and Richard were quick to power up the video game console and the huge flat screen of the living room. The first battle of the evening was a co-op of Tony versus Richard to 'Gangnam Style'.

Richard won with just a couple of points ahead, and Tony left the stage to Jason who went and crushed a solo performance to Skrillex. Tim chose 'We No Speak Americano' to demonstrate he was not just good behind his drums. Damian did not want to dance and busied himself commenting on the scores of everyone. Until he laid eyes on the two people in the wing chairs by the windows.

"Father needs to participate."

It got him his brothers' instant approval.

“C'mon, dad, you gotta try this!”

“Alfred as well!”

“Adult BATTLE!”

The billionaire and his butler looked at each other. “I trust you will represent us well, Sir.” Pennyworth made an inviting gesture towards the wide-screen TV. Wayne's eyes seemed to scream bloody murder, but he kept his face even and rose from the chair. “Just once.” Jason who skimmed through the selection of songs gave a shit-eating grin. “And I think I've got just the right song for you.”

Wayne Sr. shed his dinner jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt with maddening precision. He then got in front of the TV and stared at it for a few moments. From where Tony still sat with the boys on the floor, he eventually threw a ball of crumpled wrapping paper at Wayne which missed its goal. “This isn't rocket science, Mister W.” The kids giggled, but their father stayed concentrated. Then he nodded.  
  
“Ready.”  
  
Jason pointed the remote at the TV and pressed a button. At the first sounds of Michael Jackson's 'Smooth Criminal', mutual laughter rippled through the living room. Tony reached up to take off his baseball hat and flung it at his employer. “Here, Jacko. It ain't a fedora, but it'll do.” Bruce Wayne caught it and stood, hat in hand, looking from it to the events on screen and back.

To the cheers of his family, he then slipped the baseball hat upon his head and got in position. No more than ten seconds into the dance routine, 'Perfect' kept on popping up on the screen. Everybody in the room fell quiet and looked at each other in befuddlement. After a little over four minutes, the spectacle was over and Bruce Wayne not even breaking a sweat. He turned around to be met with six stupefied expressions.

His score blinked up, causing him to glimpse at it after he threw the hat back at its owner. A split second later, hooting and applause filled the room. Jason even gave a sharp whistle. “Not bad for an old man.” That was when Tony scrambled back to his feet and pulled off his sweater jacket. “Okay, I cannot condone this. Hit me up, Jace. Something fast.” Richard and Tim howled out with laughter at the first tunes of Jason's choice.

Tony gave them the evil eye but began to dance dutifully to 'Call Me Maybe'. He mouthed the lyrics along, at some point also making kissy faces at Bruce Wayne which caused even greater merriment all around, except for the billionaire. Tony's score was on par with Bruce's, but since he had one dance more under his belt, he came up on pole position. Next up was Richard's turn again, followed by his younger brother.

After he lost pole to both Richard's and Tim's fast and meticulous legs, Tony then remembered the mail waiting for him. He opened the card from Pepper and Happy first, grinned at their picture with Rudolph the Reindeer noses, as well as at James' and Carol's card that featured a fighter jet with holiday lights all over its wings. Finally, he opened the nondescript white envelope that simply held his name and address.

Amid the overall discussion that came with selecting a new song to dance to, Bruce Wayne eventually noticed how their nanny stood next to the sideboard looking at a piece of paper in his hands with confusion. He did not even react to the boys calling him over, or to the crumpled wrapping paper Jason threw his way. Bruce Wayne then cleared his throat and stepped into his direction. “Mister Stark?”  
  
His voice seemed to shake Tony out of some sort of trance.  
He blinked and looked up as if seeing all of them for the first time.  
“Steve wrote me a letter.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: I neither own any of the stuff mentioned below nor get compensated by the companies producing them (pathetic, I know)
> 
> Tony's baseball hat inspired by this:  
> https://www.underarmour.com/en-us/mens-ua-gotham-rogues-adjustable-cap/pid1240465
> 
> Just Dance choreography to 'Gangnam Style' by Psy:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQxdzSD_2gc
> 
> Just Dance choreography to 'Rock n' Roll' by Skrillex:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lm5nn-Niyg
> 
> Just Dance choreography to 'We No Speak Americano' by Yolanda Be Cool:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgE5y-4qSn0  
> (danced to by a very talented fella)
> 
> This one runs under artistic freedom, because it is not featured on Just Dance 4. However, it was the only song/choreography I could somehow (somehow!) picture Bruce Wayne doing - the rest was just too... bouncy, lol 
> 
> Michael Jackson The Experience / Smooth Criminal choreography:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3aNP_jNkgQ
> 
> Just Dance choreography to 'Call Me Maybe' by Carly Rae Jepsen:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rg7Pd6M1_ug  
> (another uber-talented fella here - looking a bit like a mini-Tony, too ;))


	23. Chapter 23

Ever since the arrival of the letter, Tony was in a strangely good mood. He kept on humming melodies for the entire rest of Christmas Eve and even throughout breakfast the next morning. It irked Bruce Wayne to no end that he neither knew what was in that letter, nor could figure out how it was even possible for Steve to make Tony Stark this happy.

Instead of opening up about his worries and frustrations, however, he sought out the solitude of his office immediately after breakfast until his butler had enough of his morose attitude. “What actions do you plan on taking should Mister Stark eventually decide to move back to New York City?” Without bothering to look up from where he was absorbed in an M&A PowerPoint presentation, Wayne gave a small, disdained grunt.  
  
“What Mister Stark does is his choice and his choice only. Neither you or I have the right to interfere.” To reinforce his statement, he started hacking into his laptop. With a vigorous clank, a small silver tray equipped with a tea set then landed on his table. “And what actions have you taken ever since that one and only kiss? None either, if I presume correctly.” Bruce's head shot up, a touch of panic in his eyes. “Wha-? Who told you...?”

The butler regarded him with a peculiar mixture of pity and reproach at his poor charade for the longest time. Sighing to himself, Bruce eventually stopped typing and massaged his temples instead. “There are no actions to be taken, Alfred.” With circumspect moves, Pennyworth poured him a cup of steaming hot, herbal tea.

“Pardon me, Sir, but I respectfully disagree. What if he is waiting for you to make a move? How long are you planning on hiding away from the truth and on not articulating your own wishes and motivations?” At that, Wayne slammed a palm onto the table. His cheeks were flushed, as was his throat. “Alfred, enough!” Quick to regain his composure, the billionaire exhaled and adjusted his glasses with two fingers.

“I cannot and will not force myself upon him and alter his decisions.”  
At his quiet admission, Pennyworth placed the antique teapot back on its tray. A compassionate smile was on his face.  
“You don't have to do that, Master Wayne. Just tell him how you feel.”

Left alone in his office, Bruce stared out into the bleak, wintery gardens of his Manor for a long time.

+

Around noon, the billionaire dared to venture out into his Manor, only to find Tony had taken the boys along for a wild dive into the shopping madness that was Boxing Day. Even Jason had agreed to tag along as well, and when they returned, each of them carried several shopping bags.

While the youngest Wayne family members went to unpack their haul, Tony headed for his own room, about to wrap the hilarious present he had bought for Pepper and Happy’s new apartment. A knock on his ajar door made him look up. Tony made an inviting gesture to which Bruce Wayne stepped into his room.

“Hi, Mister W. Hope you ain’t mad we didn’t ask you to come along, but you seemed busy, and not the type to enjoy crowded malls anyhow.” Bruce shook his head with a small curl of his lip and regarded the two huge porcelain mugs in Tony's lap. One read 'I Do' while the other read 'I Do What She Says'. Wayne was quick to avert his eyes and clear his throat.

“No, it’s fine. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. It has come to my attention yesterday, and I…” Tony took a deep breath, put the present aside and a very serious expression on his face. “Okay, um, I spoke to him and he brought the stuff back, so don’t make a fuss. Please.” The Gothamite’s brows creased in a frown. “What?” Tony’s eyes darted from his face over to the door of his room and back.

“Ah, erm, nothing. Nothing of importance. What is it you wanted to say?”  
Several heartbeats passed during which Wayne seemed to ponder whether to let the issue slide or not.  
That was when Alfred's voice echoed from outside the corridor.  
  
“Lunch is ready, Sirs.”

+

As soon as everyone had their plates filled with leftover salads and turkey sandwiches, Jason looked at the man at the head of the table. “I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.” Tony waited a couple of heartbeats, but when nothing followed and Wayne Sr. remained stoic as usual, he leaned over the table, towards Jason. “Don't you wanna tell your dad what you told us today?”

The billionaire nodded at his butler who had poured him a glass of water before he eyed his eldest son. Todd took a bite out of his sandwich and chewed for the longest time. “Gonna try my hand at Saint Peters University this upcoming semester. How's that sound?” Wayne unfolded his napkin with infuriating diligence. “What have you decided upon?” Jason’s grin turned wide and slightly challenging.

“Criminal Justice.”  
Two hazel eyes narrowed, only to blink immediately after.  
“I see.”

With that, Bruce Wayne reached for his fork and began to eat. When it became clear that no further statement was about to follow, Tony and the boys prattled away, talking about how Jason would become a cop, wear a spiffy uniform and gun, and work for the GCPD. Bruce Wayne simply ate in silence and only gave monosyllabic answers when asked.

Once lunch was over and the boys had gone to initiate another round of Just Dance, Stark and Wayne remained sitting while Alfred cleared the table. At the way his employer kept on staring ahead with a vacant expression, Tony then waved a hand up and down in front of his face. Bruce blinked, cast him a rather sinister glimpse, and Tony removed his hand. “Thought you'd be a little more enthusiastic at least.”

“About?”

“About your,” Tony made air-quotation marks. “Problem child getting on the right path and stuff. But no, you just sat there and gaped at him like a fish at Sea World. No, more like a dead fish at Sea World, drifting belly-upward in the water.” Wayne snorted. “First of all, Jason has to prove himself. Saying he is going to study is not the same as actually doing it. And second, I don't approve of his choice the way you do.”

Stark folded his arms upon the table. “And why is that? Because you wanted him to become a figure-juggling desk jockey like his dad?” Bruce's eyes narrowed. “Are you implying there is something wrong with studying business economics?” Tony leaned back and raised both hands, palms facing Wayne. “Sheesh, you're wearing your crabby pants today. There's not. I just wanted to say that kid has other qualities, too, you know?”

Wayne remained quiet, so Tony decided to change topics. “Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me earlier on?” Bruce stood up. The crumpled napkin from his fist landed on the empty table. “Nothing of importance.” No sooner than he left the room, Tony Stark began to whistle again. Take a Chance on Me by ABBA. Bruce Wayne took two stairs at once as he stormed into his office and closed the door with an audible bang.

 


	24. Chapter 24

When it was time for Jason's goodbye the other day, the whole Wayne family, as well as their butler and nanny gathered outside the Manor to see him off. Todd had created a messenger group for his brothers to be able to stay in touch with him. Ever since then, Damian was bugging his father for a mobile of his own, with little to no success. “Once you are starting middle school. End of discussion.”

Bruce Wayne then put his hands into his pockets and stepped up to where Jason stood. His eldest son regarded him for the longest time. “So? Happy to see me leave?” Bruce's gaze did not waver. “If you need anything...” Jason leaned against the open door of his car, snapping a bubble of gum with a loud clack. “Yeah.” They nodded at each other once more before the boy got into the driver's seat and the billionaire stepped back.

As soon as the Chevy had left the gravel driveway and the boys had already sprinted back inside, Tony made a tutting noise and fell into lockstep with his reticent employer. “Really now?” Wayne said nothing as they walked up the Manor's stairs, with Alfred following them at a distance. Stark tutted again. “Almost as tear-jerking as watching Bambi's mother die.” The Gothamite's profile remained expressionless.  
  
“If your plans for New Year's Eve involve being out of town, kindly let Alfred and me know by tomorrow.”

Tony first looked baffled at the sudden change of topic but was quick to catch up. “My...? Oh, no, no, I mean, I kinda speculated upon a huge Roaring-Twenties-Glam-Style party at your crib, but...” Upon seeing and hearing Wayne's underwhelmed reaction, he was quick to clear his throat. “But nope, no plans here. Are you going out then? A hot date to kiss at midnight at a fancy-schmancy party somewhere around the globe maybe?”

The billionaire ever so slightly increased his stride and reached the main door first.  
“I have work to do.”  
Tony stopped and waited for Pennyworth to close up to him.

“What's new, pussycat.”  
Doorknob in hand, Wayne turned around with an edgy look.  
“Pardon me?”

With a gallant motion for the elder butler to lead the way, Tony gave a mischievous wink.  
“... what a pity, I said.”  
Alfred inclined his head with a knowing, but well-hidden smirk.  
  
+

On New Year's Eve, the boys had chosen to stay at the Manor as well, seeing Tony promised to unleash the biggest pyrotechnics show the Palisades had ever seen. Needless to say, their father and his butler intervened beforehand, and Stark tampered it down to harmless fireworks in the yard instead. He did, however, fail to mention the drone which he smuggled out to film the spectacle from the inside.

It was less than half an hour before midnight when Tony brought both the drone and the boys safely back inside and told them to inspect their video haul the next day. While Richard, Tim, and Damian fought over the remote control and the bowl of potato chips in the living room, Tony sauntered into the kitchen where he caught his employer getting a small bottle of Coke from the fridge.

“Hiya, Mister W. You missed the fireworks.”  
A small, almost distressed smile crossed Wayne's face.  
“I had work to do.”

“If I get a dollar every time you're saying that, I'd be richer than you.”

“Unlikely.”

“But true. You're working too much. I can't even recall the last time I've seen you.”

“At dinner, about five and a half hours ago.”

“And I've been having a tummy ache ever since. Not related to you, of course. Or at least I don't think so.”

Wayne exhaled deep, for self-calming measures, and put a bottle opener to his soft drink.  
“You shouldn't have stuffed your face with all those Christmas sweets and fatty foods the past few days.”  
Stark scrunched up his face and put his hands on his hips.

“Compassion's really one of your strong character traits, eh?”

“Like restraint is yours.”

“Touché! But those leftover Santa hat cupcakes were just too delicious.”  
Wayne then cleared his throat.  
“Anyway. I've been wanting to talk to you but seeing it is almost midnight, you might want to...”

“Ah, come on, we've still got - yup, a solid ten minutes! Shoot.”

“Not... not here then. Come into my office.”

Tony followed along, cheerful as ever.

Once the door had shut behind them, Bruce put his Coca-Cola aside and clasped his hands behind his back. His gaze remained fastened on something at the wall behind Tony. “I have come to realize that our re... our business relationship has grown and expanded over the past months.”

He cleared his throat again and darted his eyes over to where Tony was watching him intently through large brown eyes, giving an encouraging nod. It prompted Wayne to meander over to the window. “... and it got me wondering if there is a way for us to take things into a more specific direction, namely...”

“Ohh, I get it.”  
Surprised at the outburst, Bruce swung around to look at him.  
“You do?”

Stark nodded and gave a little clap of his hands before he pointed at his opposite.  
“And let me tell you, you don't need to worry because I am going to be of great help!”  
Confusion marred Wayne's even features.

“You... what? With what?”

“Your failed fusion reactor project.”

“Huh?”

“Admit it, you still regret pulling me off the R&D gig.”

“N...”

“Always so reluctant to ask for help, Mister W. But really, like I said – let me in on it. I'll work out the kinks.” Something flitted over Wayne's features and turned them into a mask of slight irritation. “Of course.” His tone had dropped several octaves, sounding morose and sarcastic. Tony cocked his hip. “I didn't go to MIT for nursing classes. Look up my CV.” All deadpan, the billionaire stared back at him.  
  
“That wasn't on your CV.”  
  
“Ah, technically, that wasn't even my CV.”  
  
Behind a pair of glasses, a groomed eyebrow rose.

“Excuse me?”

Stark made a wobbly gesture. “Eh, details, schmetails. Fact is, I graduated from MIT, fell in love with my college sweetheart, and helped to build Steve's dream. Since I love cars and tinkering, the consequence was only logical at 18.” Disdain spread out all over Wayne's features at the name Steve and the overall gist of the story. “Whatever it was, I am not about to let my nanny get into a million-dollar-funding project.”

Tony stopped rubbing his stomach with a distraught expression to point at Bruce. “One that has already backfired once if I may remind you! So you'd rather not accept any help and keep on effing things up? That's totally stupid!” Petulant hazel eyes blinked several times. “I think I made my point on this pretty clear.” Something on Tony's face fell, even if he was quick to mask it behind a cocky stance.

“Okay, whatevs. I'm gonna go pop some Peptos now. Happy new year, Mister W.”  
He turned and left the office before Bruce had a chance to wish him the same.  
Outside, the first official firecrackers rose into Gotham City's sky and blazed out in spectacular hues.

+

Up in his room, Tony sat down on the edge of the couch with a hiss. By now, his stomach was rebelling, and he chalked it up to being angry and upset about Wayne's confusing and disappointing behavior. A couple of chewable Pepto-Bismol tablets from the medicine cabinet also brought no relief; if anything, the pain he experienced became sharper, spread and worsened over a matter of mere minutes.

Blaming the fatty holiday food for his condition, Tony tried to breathe through the abdominal cramps until they became too much. He only managed to dial for Alfred before he dropped the receiver, unable to pick it up or move an inch from his curled up position on the sofa. When the butler entered his room after not receiving an answer, he found him semi-conscious and drenched in sweat.

The rest of the night ended in flashing red lights illuminating all of Wayne Manor's driveway. Strapped to a gurney, Tony kept on mumbling something about his employer and insurance coverage until the paramedics put an oxygen mask over his face and his eyes fluttered shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a drone flying through fireworks - with amazing results:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ly_gROMhkN8


	25. Chapter 25

After he had raced his Lamborghini Aventador down to the Gotham General Hospital, running at least two red lights, Bruce Wayne kept on pacing the linoleum corridors until he was able to grab one of the scurrying surgeons and inquire about the gravity of the situation. “Appendicitis can be a life-threatening condition. We are preparing for immediate surgery.” At the blunt words, Bruce's heart sank.

“Will he be alright?”

“We will do our best, Sir.”

Four hours later, a rumpled-looking Gotham billionaire sat by the bedside of his unconscious nanny, their hands almost touching. He had instructed Alfred to stay at the Manor as to not worry the boys any more than necessary. With the steady and monotone beeping of medical equipment as his only background noise, Bruce stared at the still countenance until the man in between the white sheets finally began to rouse.

"Mister Stark?"  
At the tentative voice, Tony's mouth twisted into a grimace, his eyes still shut.  
“Ugh-huh. Wha' h'ppn'd?”

Wayne released a small breath.  
“A case of severe appendicitis. You were lucky they were able to perform surgery in time.”  
Stark inhaled, only to erupt in a little cough.

“Man, I feel ston'd.”  
Bruce cast the dripping IV on the side a brief look.  
“That's the morphine.”

Tony tried to shift, but pulled a face and stopped. He missed out on the frown that crossed his employer's features.

“You gave us quite a scare tonight...”  
When nothing but a faint “Mhm” followed, the Gothamite gnawed at his bottom lip.  
“... and it made me realize how much we... need you.”

At the sudden, feather-like touch to his fingertips, Tony raised a single eyelid, albeit with difficulty.  
“Who?”  
It was then that Bruce Wayne inspected the white sheets with great interest.

“The boys, Alfred... they all love you."  
When he risked a quick glimpse up, he found Stark regarding him through heavy-lidded eyes.  
"... and...?"

The billionaire's face twisted into an almost agonized mask and he lowered his head again.  
"So do I.”  
Tony closed his tired eyes again.  
  
“... 's good.”  
  
A stoned simper crawled over his face before he drifted off again.  
  
+

When Bruce Wayne brought his nanny back home three days later, Rogers' letter mocked him again. Stark was sentenced to bedrest for the upcoming two days and told to consume fluid foods and moderately warm beverages. “Home sweet home. Hey, can I get a little bell to call for assistance?” When Wayne did not immediately reply, Tony caught his withering stare and followed it over to the piece of paper on the nightstand.

“Can you believe it? Steve wrote to tell me he had to file for bankruptcy. Man, I tell you, at first it was like the biggest in-your-face I could imagine, but now that I've thought about it some more, well...” The billionaire nodded, looking relieved all of a sudden. “It might leave you as the sole guarantor for the entire outstanding balance.” Stark inched onto his bed and gave a weak nod, exhausted from the slow walk.

“Which means bye-bye savings. I'm going to be indebted for the next twenty years.” With a smirk, he looked up at his employer. “Any chance the boys need a nanny even after they went to college?” Wayne pushed his glasses up with his ring finger. “I will have your loan documents checked. Even if you're left with an unfair proportion of the associated risk, there are still ways to handle things. Do not worry about that now.”

Stark's smile became soft and grateful. “You're the best. Oh, but have we actually spoken about...” In a quick move, Bruce then proceeded to check his watch. “Ah, it's already quite late. I will send for Alfred to bring you a... a tea or something. Get some rest.” Tony watched him all but flee from his room, confused.  
  
+

On the road to recovery, Tony fully enjoyed the pampering of the whole Wayne family.

After a week, however, Alfred and the boys decided to ignore his steady use of the small bell he had been given. It was then that Tony dared to venture outside of his bed and room on his own again. Dressed in a pair of sweatpants with a soft waistband, t-shirt, and a navy waffle-knit robe on top, he shuffled into the kitchen get something other than chamomile tea or cream soup.

He almost bumped into his employer who was just about to take an ice pack from the fridge. “Evening, boss. What’s wrong?” Wayne kept his face even and went to fetch a dishtowel from the oven door handle to wrap the small pack into. “Nothing.” Tony shrugged and reached for the overhead cabinet. At his wince, Bruce instantly stepped in from behind and assisted him. “What do you need?”

Breathing hard, Tony braced himself against the counter. “A new appendix and for you to pass me the Ritz crackers.” Wayne did as he was told and put the box in front of Tony. It was then that Stark’s eyes fell upon a huge purple bruise upon Bruce’s right wrist. “Ouch, what have you done? That looks painful!” He made a move as if he wanted to reach out for it. In an instant, the Gothamite drew back with a frown.

“Gym accident. Listen, Mister Stark, about the thing I said last week...”

Two large brown eyes went from the bruised wrist up to Bruce’s face. “Thing?” Wayne's bottom lip twitched. “At the hospital...” It was then that Tony's smile became dreamy. “Ahh, of course - how could I forget. At first, I thought I had imagined it, but--” Wayne swallowed. “Listen, I... it was a stressful situation, and I wasn't in any position to make unrighteous assumptions like that, so can we just...”

Those dark-brown eyes then narrowed to slits.  
“Are you're taking it back?”  
The other man gulped ever so slightly.

“Well, I... well, I can't...”

“You’re taking it back.”

“As matters stand, I... have to.”

“Oh. My. GOD.”

With an expression hovering between helpless, infuriated, and confused, Bruce Wayne watched his nanny pinch the bridge of his nose. “Mister Stark, I realize these are difficult circumstances, and if you cannot…” A held up hand interrupted his awkward mumblings. Tony Stark exhaled and forced himself to meet his eyes. “No. Nono. I am an adult, I can deal with this. We're employer and employee, and yeah. No hard feelings.”

Ultimate relief seemed to radiate from Bruce Wayne in palpable waves. “I... good. That is... good. Now, if you excuse me, I have a... a telephone conference in five minutes.” He was quick to grab the ice pack that was already starting to thaw and melt in the towel and left the kitchen. Left behind was a fretful and even more thoughtful nanny who drummed his fingers on the counter.

 


	26. Chapter 26

“He's taken back The Thing. Can you imagine that? I mean, HE was the one who went and said it in the first place. Okay, okay, admittedly not in so many words, but if you knew him, you'd know that was a HUGE thing! And now... that. I really don't know what to make out of this.” Tony crossed his ankles and leaned against the counter, deep in thought. A few moments later, his face lit up.

“Gosh, no, wait - you know what!? I just realized something! Remember what I told you about my relationship with my father earlier on - it bears a striking similarity to my relationship with Mister W. Both have kept me at arms' length, emotionally. Well, in Mister W's case, he obviously still does! That... emotionally-stunted pighead!” His opposite cast him a skeptical glance.

“That's real tragic, Mister, but I really need you to pay for your grande cappuccino now. That'll be $4,95.”  
Tony pulled out a $5 bill and handed it to the student behind the counter.  
“Cheapest therapy sesh ever.”

+

Once he was back at Wayne Manor, decently caffeinated for the first time since his surgery, Tony stormed into the office of an innocent Bruce Wayne who almost sent his tablet PC flying when the door burst open without preamble. “I just had an epiphany!” Lowering the expensive pad, the billionaire blinked in exasperation. “Oh, Lord help us all.” Tony pointed an accusing finger his way.  
  
“YOU are afraid of intimacy! And I am going to help you get over it – step by step!”  
  
Wayne slipped the device onto his desk and crossed his arms with a snort.  
  
“I most certainly am not.”  
  
The man standing opposite of him adopted a challenging stance.  
  
“Just call me Tony instead of Mister Stark. That'll be a start.”

“Excuse me?”

“You've heard me. Say it.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“Say. It.”

“I do _not_ have a problem with intimacy.”

Tony's lips parted and turned into a wild, audacious grin.  
  
“Bruce.”  
  
Wayne stared at him as if he had just spoken Hindi. Stark put his hands behind his back, looking smug.

“See? That wasn't so hard. Now you.”

“I...”  
  
Tony rocked a little back and forth on his toes.  
  
“My name starts with a T.”

Wayne locked his jaw.

“Stop pressuring me.”

“ _Bru-ce...”_

Tony's voice held a dangerous, singsong undertone. The Gothamite shook his head, though more to himself.

“Okay, fine... T... --ony.”

“Now in one setting.”

“You are a pest, do you know that?”

“A pest with an easy-to-pronounce, two-syllable name.”

“Cut it out now.”

“No, I just might have to... tickle... it out. Of you.”

He stepped around the desk with outstretched arms and wiggling fingers. Bruce got up and out of his seat.

“No.”

Stark moved in, his movements still far too tender.

"Stay back."

His threat fell on deaf ears. Wayne kept on retreating, both hands up in protest.

“Tony, no!”

At that, Stark stopped dead in his tracks, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“There we go.”

They grinned at each other with something between cautious giddiness and honest surprise.

+

Tony was back to being his usual, jaunty self right before it was time for Tim's big day at his school; partaking in a talent show with his drums to perform a solo. As soon as Nanny Stark had been able to leave the bed, he had been practicing with Tim almost every day for three to four hours, making him rehearse his routine and showing him footage of many famous drummers.

On a Friday afternoon, Bruce, Tony, Alfred, Richard, and Damian took their seats upon the Gotham High gym hall’s wooden benches to cheer him on. The large hall smelled of leather, linoleum, basketball fabric and adolescent sweat and was crowded with about 200 people; students as well as teachers. Visibly nervous, Tim went through the motions of adjusting and checking his drum set in the middle of the gym.

When he looked up, a waving Tony caught his eye. The latter's hands curled around his mouth.  
“Pete victoriam!” [Aim for victory]  
He then raised a hand and threw up the V-sign.

The boy brushed his wayward bangs from his eyes, grinned, and repeated it.

Tim delivered a solid performance, even though he rushed through some parts. Still, people were cheering almost nonstop during the final part, Tony Stark being the loudest of them all. At some point, he jumped up from his seat. “THAT'S MY BOY!” His emphatic fist-pump prompted Bruce to look at him. Stark then bumped his shoulder, all euphoric. “Isn't he the greatest!? He got that little drumstick twirl from Eric Singer.”

Before Bruce could admit that he did not know who that was, Tony put his pinkie fingers in between his lips and gave a whistle. In the end, Tim made second place in his age group. After the event was over, his silver medal hanging around his neck, he was allowed to ride shotgun with Tony. He also got to wear a pair of Stark’s many sunglasses which were too big for his face, but not for his level of pride.

“The sun doesn’t even shine.”  
At Richard’s snide and a bit jealous remark, Tim put up an important face.  
“Tony says it’s never too dark to be cool.”  
  
At that, a dark head poked out of the driver’s seat of the Aston Martin Vantage Roadster.  
“Damn right!”  
That earned him two very disdained looks from both Alfred and Bruce before they slipped into the Bentley.

At every traffic light on their way back to the Manor, Tony and Tim pulled up alongside the limousine and tried to get Alfred to race them home with loud revving of the engine. Damian and Richard stuck their heads out of the windows, making funny faces at them until their father forced them to sit down again.

+

Back at home, Tony shooed the boys upstairs to get changed and meet back in the living room for a round of delivery pizza and a movie of Tim's choice. Said boy stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “So dad doesn't have to leave tonight?” His voice was filled with hope. Bewildered, Tony blinked at him. “He… uh, I – I’ll ask.”

As soon as had he waltzed into Wayne's office and found it empty, Tony went to investigate. He found his employer in his master bedroom, packing a weekender bag on the bed. “No way. Don’t tell me you’re leaving now! I thought we’d have a little celebration following Tim’s foray into stardom.” Bruce walked around him and took a pair of cufflinks from a drawer. "The closing of the merger project in Miami is important.”

Tony turned around and followed him from the dressing room back to the bedroom.  
“More important than your own son?”  
The Armani weekender bag was zipped shut with force.  
  
“Take my credit card and buy something nice for Tim.”  
Stark snorted with disdain.  
“Tim doesn’t need any more stuff, he needs his dad to be there for him.”  
  
“Stop guilt-tripping me.”  
“Stop letting your company rule your life.”  
At that, Bruce straightened up to his full height, making Tony having to look up into his stern face.  
  
“I don’t expect you to understand, I want you to take care of what’s necessary in my absence.”  
He slung his coat over his arm and took the duffel bag along.  
Tony remained behind, staring at his broad back.

“Wait. Bruce.”  
Wayne stopped and turned around.  
“What?”

Stark walked over to him.  
“I... understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”  
Two hazel eyes lost a bit of their aloofness behind their glasses.

“Thank you.”  
Tony inclined his head and reached out to open the door for them both.  
“That doesn’t mean that you can run and hide forever from having fun, though.”

The Gothamite threw him a brief glance and walked down the stairs.  
“I doubt any business trip will offer that possibility.”  
Tony shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and dared to grin as he stepped down the stairs next to him.

“Depends on whom you’re traveling with.”

+

Downstairs, the boys had already gathered. Despite Tony's fears, Tim took it fairly well to see his father off. Alfred was at the Bentley, and Tony chose to keep him company to allow Wayne a moment alone with his kids. “How long is he gonna stay in Miami?” The butler closed the trunk with a slow, careful motion. “Over the weekend, Sir.” Tony hummed. "Man, what I wouldn’t give to come along.”

Alfred took a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe down the rearview mirror of the passenger side. “I do not see a problem, provided you are willing to fly commercial since Master Wayne is taking the jet.” Tony stared at him long and hard for a moment. “Are you- are you implying what I think you’re implying?” With a regal look, Pennyworth walked around the car to repeat the gesture to the driver's side mirror.

“I do believe that you can lead a horse to water and make it drink, given the proper refreshments.”

Tony leaned upon the limousine’s rooftop, chin propped up on folded arms. “I don’t know what I find more hilarious – you referring to Bruce as a horse, or you telling me to torpedo his lame-ass, boring business shindig. Ya know Al, if you were twenty years younger, and I was your type, I'd probably fall in love with _you_.” The butler threw him a chiding look and pocketed his handkerchief.

“Go pack a bag, Mister Stark.”  
“Not a word to him!”  
“Of course not, Sir.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the cute and amazing performance that inspired Tim's part in this chapter here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUucJvm7MhQ
> 
> Aston Martin Vantage Roadster POV driving (just because engine sound;))  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KD8YQmOzMfU


	27. Chapter 27

Tony arrived in Miami a little after midnight. He had watched 'Despicable Me 2' with Richard, Tim, and Damian and inhaled a whole pizza margarita before tucking the boys in and heading for the airport. The Mandarin Oriental turned out to be a huge, luxury 5-star palace right at the waterside of Miami Beach. Tony's room was on the 7th  floor like the Gothamite's, had a balcony, and offered a great view of Biscayne Bay.

Tired from his journey, he decided to surprise his employer the next day and went to get some sleep.

The next morning around 10 am, he went and knocked on room number 375. As it turned out, Bruce Wayne was already out for business, so Tony splurged on the breakfast buffet before inspecting the spa facilities and the gym. Around 2 pm, he tried his luck again and the billionaire opened him, wearing some sort of fancy lounge robe with matching pants, cushioned slippers, and a huge frown.

“Wha – what are YOU doing here?!”  
Tony leaned forward on his toes with an impish expression, hands clasped behind his back.  
“Providing just the right bit of fun on your business tr…HEY! Your room is freaking huge!!”

Without warning, he slipped into the suite. Incensed, Bruce closed the door and followed him. “Mister St--” Turning around, Tony raised a warning finger. Bruce’s jaw worked as he remembered their agreement. “What were you thinking? Where are the boys?” His nanny's expression turned smug. “At home with Alfred. He was okay with looking out for them for a couple of days.” He paused, hopeful.

"We are staying another couple of days, right? I haven't had a vacation since I started working, plus I've never been to Miami Beach! Oh, and the spa here's bigger than all of the Manor’s bathrooms combined – man, they even have a salt-cave sauna!” Wayne exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “I… I don’t believe this.” At the way it lost its gelled rigor, Tony nodded with eagerness.

“I didn’t believe it either, but I licked the wall – pure salt. It’s all kinds of rad. Why don’t we go check it out tonight, y'know... to,” He wiggled his eyebrows in a seductive manner. “Heat things up a bit.” Bruce went from disheveling his hair to palming his face. “I have several back-to-back meetings starting in less than an hour. Can you just go about your business and spend the next days in blissful solitude?” Tony shook his head no.  
  
“My business is your business – or rather making sure your business is no business at all. Capiche?”  
With a small groan, Wayne braced himself against the wall.  
“I am feeling so tired sometimes.”  
  
Stark, who kept on meandering through the suite, nodded along in empathy. “See? Because you are working too much! Sooo, when are you done desk jockeying? Imma go pick you up and we go hit the town. You haven't seen much of Miami apart from its airport and the hotel either, if I may take a wild guess." Bruce cast his gaze out of the many panorama windows. Eventually, he sighed through half-opened lips.

“7:30.”  
Tony Stark made a little snap and clap gesture with his hands.  
“Excellent! I'll come pick you up at 8."

+

At 8 pm sharp, Tony rapped on his employer's door. He had changed his wardrobe three times before settling on slim black pants with white Converse sneakers, a white t-shirt, and a denim shirt he left open. Wayne opened him in beige chinos, brown boat shoes without socks, and a checkered button-down shirt. Tony whistled. “Heyyo - schweet. This has gotta be the most chill I’ve ever seen you dress.”

Before Wayne could formulate an offended reply, Stark concluded with a smirk. “No, but really. I like it.” Pulling the door shut behind him, Bruce slipped the key card into his wallet and straightened the collar of his shirt. “I want to know where we're going and what we're doing beforehand.” Tony cast him a pointed look. “But then it's not gonna be a surprise.” The billionaire’s lips twitched. “Exactly.”

They walked to the elevator and Stark pressed the button for the foyer. “Okay, so first thing on the agenda is obviously food. I figured you haven't had time to eat anything apart from measly hors-d'oeuvres or crackers and stuff.” Wayne gave an agreeable nod before the cabin opened with a dinging sound. Outside, Miami welcomed them with a soft ocean breeze and pleasant temperatures in the mid-sixties.

“So, therefore I thought we’d head over to Joe’s Stone Crab. I read that it’s a real institution round here.” Bruce looked skeptical. “Crabs.” Tony nodded. “If crabs aren’t your thing, the menu's got plenty of other stuff you could go for, fried chicken or something. But we definitely need to try the key lime pie afterward.”

They took a cab over to Miami Beach and entered a restaurant held in warm, wooden hues 20 minutes later. Inside, it smelled of herbs and grilled food and was packed with people. Eying the overall bustle, Tony shoved his palms flat into the pockets of his tight jeans and sighed through half-opened lips.“Looks like we’ll have to wait for a table, but I think it’ll be worth it.” At that, Bruce turned to the man at waiting area.

“Table for two, please.”  
He slipped a business card over the counter. The manager looked at it before his smile turned all winsome.  
“Certainly, Mister Wayne. Please follow me.”  
  
Tony was quick to morph his surprise into confidence and trotted after his employer.  
“Who knew you’d be willing to go all corporate overlord on anyone.”  
Bruce’s smile was minuscule, but there.

“It does come in handy sometimes.”  
  
They were led to a table with checked placemats in a corner and handed two menus. Tony ordered a crab nachos appetizer and urged Bruce to try. Wayne was not that opposed but still chose roasted salmon fillet with rice and vegetables while Stark ordered shrimp and fish fillets with fries, coleslaw, and hushpuppies.

Their conversation revolved around food and that one time Tony had tried octopus at a sushi bar in New York and gotten food poisoning afterward. With a pointed look, the Gothamite then ordered an espresso while Stark went for dessert. Once Tony had devoured his key lime pie all by himself, he dug out his wallet. Wayne waved him off. A slim, black American Express card was in between his fingers.

“Expense account.”

Stark hummed. “You’re gonna tell your assistant you were in a business meeting with your nanny?” Bruce’s mouth twitched. “Something like that.” Tony chuckled and watched him hand the card over to the waiter who took it along. “You could still say I work in R&D. As a freelancer. Whom you are currently negotiating working hours with.” That earned him a quirk of an eyebrow from behind a pair of glasses.

"Do not start this again."

Once Wayne had put a deft signature under the credit card receipt, they made their way out to where Miami's nightlife was in full bloom. Seeing how Bruce Wayne was side-eying the cabs at the curb, Tony Stark stepped into his line of view with a dazzling grin. “How about a little walk alongside Ocean Drive?” The Gothamite fought down an urge to look at his watch and eventually nodded.  
  
“A bit of fresh air cannot hurt. Maybe it also gets rid of that persistent crab smell.”

With a small roll of his eyes, Tony began walking. Much to his joy, Bruce joined in and followed suit. They strolled down the promenade, examining the historic Art Deco District and its trademark buildings. Soon, a lively venue called The Clevelander loomed up in the distance. Colorful flashlights illuminated the sky while loud beats reverberated through the air. Bruce's mouth twisted with scorn.

“Exactly what I pictured South Beach to be. A boozy tourist trap.”  
Too enthralled to mind his disparaging tone, Tony grabbed a handful of sleeve and pulled him along.  
“Sold!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hotel in this chapter:  
> https://www.mandarinoriental.com/miami/brickell-key/luxury-hotel  
> (minus the salt cave sauna, that's a figment of my imagination. Or Tony's ;))


	28. Chapter 28

In what proved to be a futile endeavor, Wayne tried to slow down his steps.  
  
“No. The jet leaves tomorrow at 8, and I still have to write a repo...”  
  
Relentless fingers clawed around his forearm and dragged him into the middle of the colorful scene. “You can sleep on the jet, and that report can wait. One can take only so much monkeying around. Time to switch adult responsibilities for a good, old-fashioned game of hooky!” They wrestled their way through the crowd over to a group of bartenders behind a circular glass-panel bar with interchanging rainbow colors.

While Bruce glowered at everything and everyone around, Tony leaned in and yelled their order at a guy in his early twenties who had lots of piercings and tattoos. “These strobe lights are ghastly.” Wayne nevertheless reacted when a huge plastic cup filled with a pinkish liquid appeared under his nose. “Here's something to dampen your senses.” Over two Sea Breeze cocktails, Tony then toasted his opposite. “To Miami nights.”

Bruce took a cautious sip, winced, and put the cup aside. “You really seem to like it here.” Tony also tried his cocktail, taking a bigger swig than him, and nodded. “It's so vibrant and liberating, what can I say. I'd move here in an instant.” Wayne's jaw worked. “Figured.” Tony put his drink down and fished a hefty slice of orange from the rim. “Jealous, Gotham?” The billionaire watched him suckle on the fruit but kept his face even.  
  
“No. There's more to life than cocktails and parties.”  
  
Stark’s eyes twinkled as he put the rim of the fruit onto the napkin.  
“But not tonight. Tonight, all bets are off.”  
With a blasé shrug, Wayne also reached for his beverage again.  
  
“Unlikely, but keep on telling yourself that.”  
  
90 minutes and two rounds of Sea Breezes later, they were among the leading members of the conga line.

With his denim shirt tied around his waist, Tony's white tee glowed brightly in the blacklight from above. A ridiculous pair of huge, bright-red shutter shades was perched high upon his nose as he kept on grooving along to the calypso tunes. His three-shuffles-and-a-kick were perfectly in tune with a (surprisingly rhythmic) Bruce Wayne up front. By now, the latter's collar was popped, the hem of his shirt partly untucked.

The how, where, and when he had acquired that glowstick necklace, however, was still a mystery to Tony. The billionaire was so immersed in his performance that he did not notice when a stout woman in her mid-forties wedged in line behind him. With a predatory grin over her shoulder, she grabbed the unsuspecting Gothamite by the waist. Stark's brows were furrowed like two angry caterpillars as he yanked off his shades.

"Oh, no, lady. I've waited far too long for this chance."

It took two tries until Tony was able to spin her handsy self out and resume his place. Putting his hands on a set of swaying, narrow hips, he gave them a squeeze. “Next exit's ours.” Wayne threw him a brief glance over his shoulder but complied and slid out of formation as soon as they passed by the huge fountain. Tony parked him at one of the free high tables close to the bar and returned with four mini bottles of sparkling water.

They each downed one in one sitting, relishing the cool liquid.

“So, what's your final verdict on the city?”

At Tony's question, Bruce's eyes went up from where he had removed the glowing plastic around his neck. His cheeks were rosy, both from alcohol and movement. After inspecting the conga line that was still going strong for the longest time, a daring smirk crept over his lips. “Hot hot hot.” Stark's eyes traveled down to where two buttons of Wayne's shirt were open, exposing a tiny strip of skin. His expression turned lewd.

“My offer for the salt-cave sauna session still stands by the way.” The Gothamite's mouth quirked. “One I have to decline.” Tony put up a dazzling grin. “Ya missin' out on me bein' all nekkid 'n sweaty.” Bruce leaned forward on one elbow, bottle close to his lips. “If I'm not the reason for it...” He then downed the rest of his second water in one go. A gasp escaped Tony's lips and he put up a mock-scandalized expression.  
  
“So. Still waters _are_ deep.”  
In slow motion, Wayne's grin turned from intoxicated simper to downright jackal.  
“You have no idea.”

+

It was already past midnight when they returned to their hotel. By that time, both had sobered up enough to not make a scene in the lobby and instead ride up to their floor in a distinguished manner. Only when they were alone on the vast, carpeted corridor did Tony dare to fall back into a conga line step sequence. Bruce Wayne did not join in but kept on grinning along. Eventually, they stopped at room number 375.

“There we are.”  
  
Stark nodded. “Yup. Sooo... did you have fun tonight?” It took a while, but then a small smile flitted over Wayne's features. “I did.” Tony rocked a little back and forth on his heels. “Well... good." He waited patiently, seeing Bruce needed two attempts to key the door open. As it finally unlocked with a soft, electronic whirr, the Gothamite paused in the doorway, cleared his throat, and looked back at the other man. “Um. Do you…”

“Yes!”  
All embarrassed at his blurted out statement, Tony cleared his throat.  
“I mean, uh, what?”

Bruce braced himself against the open door and took a deep breath. “... want to come in for a drink?” In the light from above, the skin on his throat seemed a little flushed. “I realize of course that we just had a more than a reasonable amount of alcohol. And I usually don't indulge in any…” Tony stopped his ramblings by waltzing past him into the suite, giving a reassuring little wave with one hand.

“A li'l nightcap couldn’t hurt.”

Wayne exhaled a little more forcefully than his poker-face attempt should have permitted him to. He was quick to close the door after looking up and down the corridor one last time. Bruce then tried several switches on a wall panel until he found a decent indirect lighting variation he settled for. By that time, Tony had meandered over to the minibar and was rummaging through the selection.

“Wow, there's even champagne in here, you aristocrat.”  
Wayne did not mimic the grin on Tony's face. Instead, he palmed his neck and frowned at the floor.  
“I want you to know that it... it never really mattered that much to me, this lifestyle.”

Stark closed the minibar with a small click and rose to his feet. His equilibrium protested and he had to take an extra step to steady himself. “Hey now, that wasn't meant as an insult. I mean, you're no rich airhead who throws his money around 'n all that. You're workin' hard for it 'n that deserves some respect.” Bruce glimpsed back up at him, mouth slightly agape. “You... think so?”  
  
With a nod and a bold expression, Tony stepped up close until they were standing face to face. “Sure do. 'n what I also think is that you're significantly sexier without these.” He reached out to take the slim glasses off of Bruce's nose and slipped them into the breast pocket of his rumpled denim shirt. When tender fingers ran along Bruce's cheekbone and temple moments later, the latter closed his eyes and swallowed.

“M-maybe I... could try to wear contacts.”

Tony's hands slid down to rest on his chest. “Mhm. I'd like that.” Bruce opened his eyes and looked at him. His own hands found their way around Tony's waist and began to draw him closer. “What... else would you like?” With a little smirk, Stark tilted his head and raised his chin slightly as Bruce Wayne started to lean in. Just before their lips touched, the mobile on the table erupted with a gnarl, vibrating on the wooden sideboard.  
  
To an elaborately swearing Tony in the back, Bruce went to press the phone to his ear.  
“What is it, Richard? Why are you still up?”  
The voice on the other end sounded close to tears.

“Alfred had a heart attack.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's shades:  
> https://www.gogglesandglasses.com/Novelty-Party-Glasses-slotted-80s-Shades-Red_p_6935.html
> 
> In my head, the conga line is kinda like this one:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPVl35Tkbvs
> 
> and the boys move their bootays to this tune:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkGgdIBX1to  
> Song: 'Hot Hot Hot' by Arrow (1983)
> 
> I haven't been able to get rid of these mental images ever since. I need help.  
> 


	29. Chapter 29

The WE Learjet took them back to arrive in Gotham three hours later. By that time, the butler had been admitted to the Gotham General and had already undergone surgery. For a while, Tony Stark tried to make small talk to cope with the feeling of helplessness, but Bruce Wayne, caught in an eerie feeling of déja-vu from Tony's previous hospital stint several weeks ago, remained silent and withdrawn.

They found Richard, Tim, and Damian huddled in a corner of the waiting room area. The two eldest boys jumped to their feet when they spotted their father and their nanny. As soon as he was able to hand Tim over to his father, Tony walked up to where Damian sat, stone-faced, and stared at his feet. Stark hunkered down in front of him. “Hey, champ. You guys did great, calling 911 immediately.” The 8-year-old did not meet his gaze.  
  
“48 % of men who die of coronary artery disease had no previous symptoms.”  
The monotone little voice made Tony put his palms flat on Damian's knees.  
“Alfred will be alright. He will be back to stirring your morning porridge faster than you think.”  
  
The frown in between the boy's delicate brows deepened. “People who survive a heart attack have a chance of sudden death that is four to six times greater than others.” Tony's mouth turned into a thin line as he squeezed the boy's knees. “Enough of this morbid talk, Dami. Alfred is going to survive and he will be around until you're old enough to have your own kids.”

A man in a white coat approached them and Tony rose back to his feet. “The bypass surgery was a success. Mister Pennyworth's condition is stable now, but you have to wait another hour until you can visit him.” Both Wayne and Stark glimpsed at their watches. It was a little after 3:30 am. “I'm gonna go get us a... coffee or something.” Tony looked at Bruce for confirmation. Wayne nodded.

His gaze then fell upon the distraught countenance of his eldest son, and Tony understood. “Richie, can you come along and help me find a vending machine?” The boy nodded, face all serious. They walked around the many corridors in silence until they found what they were looking for. Once Tony had scraped the last coins from his pockets, he purchased two cups of strong, black liquid.

The cups were of thin plastic and very hot, so Richard got a handful of paper napkins from a nearby service station and reached out to take one cup from Tony and carry it along. “I know dad wants you to take us home. But I want to stay here until Alfred wakes up.” Tony's free hand came up to curl around his shoulder and pulled him closer. “Sure, kiddo. I'll speak with him.”  
  
Around 3:50 am, Tony Stark carried a sleeping Damian into a cab that stood and waited for them outside. Bruce Wayne held the door open until Tim had also settled into the backseat. The billionaire then bent down and leaned in to watch Tony shrug out of his sweater jacket to tug it tight around the small child's sleeping form. Bruce gripped the door frame tight. “I'll be home as soon as possible.”  
  
When Stark looked up, his face was just as drawn with fatigue and concern.  
Nevertheless, he mustered up a confident smile.  
“Don't worry, I got this.”  
  
+  
  
Tony must have fallen asleep on the couch of the salon, because the next thing he noticed was someone switching on a lamp in the back of the room. He brushed over his face and shifted into a sitting position with groggy motions. “Uh, wha--?” Something in the shadows rustled, then a dark voice spoke up. “It's me.” Blinking the dimly lit room into focus, Tony squinted up at the tall, dark silhouette in front.

The billionaire was still wearing his coat, and a whiff of cold winter air hit Tony's nostrils as he slid out of it.

“What time's it?”

“5:45.”

Tony rubbed his face one more time and tried to smother down his mussed up hair.  
  
“Where's Richard?”

Wayne took off the scarf he wore and dropped it on the backrest of the couch.

“Up in his room, asleep.”

“Alfred?”

“His body is responding well to the bypass.”

Stark rose from the couch and stretched his back with an audible little pop.

“Is he going to make a complete recovery?”

Bruce nodded, face still grave.  
  
“Yes.”

Tony gave in to an ebullient impulse and threw himself at Wayne, hugging him tight. After an initial awkward pause, Bruce returned the hug, albeit less impulsive. Neither of them let go after what was deemed an appropriate amount of time. Instead, Tony's hands began to run up and down Bruce's back. “Oh, thank heavens. We can be so lucky.” It was then that the Gothamite's hands inched down to land on Tony's backside.

“Very lucky.”

Stark made a purring noise and turned his head so that he was able to nuzzle into the crook of Bruce's neck. “More than lucky.” Wayne pulled him close so that their hips touched. “And everything's gonna be fine.” When Tony began to nibble at his earlobe, Bruce's eyes fluttered shut for a few heartbeats. Then his fingers started to knead two firm, ample buttocks to which Stark ground against his pelvis.

“More than fine.”  
Tony's voice was thick with rapture. Bruce blinked hooded eyes at him and swallowed.  
“Gloriously fine.”  
  
Without further ado, their lips met, hesitant at first, only to culminate in a furious, almost frantic kiss.

 


	30. Chapter 30

Soon, they landed backward on the couch, limbs entwined and lips locked. With Tony on top of him, Bruce barely registered Stark was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt while his own palms had already found their way under Tony's t-shirt. At that, the latter began to make throaty noises and ground into him. “Mhmm. Bruce, yes. Oh, yes.” It brought the Gothamite back to reality with a sharp pang of guilt.  
  
“Mmmpfh, I... you're... really, we... unfff – STOP!”  
  
Breathless, the billionaire stood up and moved out of Tony's proximity, despite the very visible bulge in his pants. All confused, Tony sat back up and ran a palm over his swollen mouth. “Huh? Why are we stopping? What's wrong?” Bruce ran his hand through his hair multiple times, leaving it even more disheveled. “I don't want to do something we both might regret.” Tony snorted with incredulity.

“Oh, please. I'm no Virgin Mary, and besides,” He gestured to his own, unmistakable arousal. “What more confirmation do you need?” Wayne shook his head and took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This is not the right time. We've both been under a lot of pressure, and...” All smug, Stark pointed at their mutual body reactions. “Still are, if I may say so. Why don't we do something about it now and talk later?”

Bruce took a deep breath and put his glasses back on. “I am not interested in a tryst.” Tony nodded, eager. “That makes two of us then.” He spread his arms wide. “Come back here.” Wayne negated with a shake of the head. “We shouldn't.” Tony rolled his eyes. “We just did, and it was amazing so far. Can you finally say what's on your mind?” Bruce scowled. “Alfred has been on the verge of death tonight, and we're here...”

He made an elaborate gesture between Tony and himself. Stark thumped the backrest of the couch. “But you just said yourself he's going to get a hundred percent well again! You really think he would want us to weep at his bedside now?” Wayne still stood rooted to the spot and frowned at him. “That still doesn't justify... this.” Tony's bearded mouth turned into a scowl. “How about we start giving a name to 'this', for starters?”  
  
Bruce returned a fiery, challenging glare.  
  
“What do you want from me?!”

“A commitment of sorts would be a great start!”

“I... I cannot give you that.”

“Why? Because you're not the swinging door Jason pegged you for? Or because you're not gay for me?”

“No, because I... because...”

“Yes?”  
  
“... Because it would confuse the boys and complicate things in an unnecessary way!”  
  
Two seconds later, Tony barked out an incredulous, harsh sounding laugh. “I'm sorry, but that is just the most fucked up, pathetic, ridiculous excuse I've ever heard. Kinda funny, too, because I've never deemed you a coward - until now.” Visible barriers slammed shut behind Bruce's eyes and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What's that supposed to mean?” Stark threw his arms up into the air.

“Why don't you tell it to my face that I am not acceptable for your kind? A blue-collar, low-rent embarrassment just good enough to work for you and look after your kids?” Aghast, Wayne stared at him. “Because that's not what it is!” He did not elaborate, thus resulting in Tony becoming even more irate. “THEN WHAT IS IT!?” He slammed both of his palms down onto the couch with vigor.

With anguish written all over his face, Bruce Wayne fought for words for the longest time. Until he had to admit defeat.  
  
“I can't. We can't. I am sorry.”

It hurt to look at the whole world shattering behind Tony's expressive brown eyes, but Bruce forced himself to watch. Stark's features then hardened. “Well. Guess I can't sell you what you don't want to buy. Gotta respect that.” He wiped down his face with both palms and rose from the sofa in one swift motion. “But then you gotta respect that I can't go on living like this.”

There was no further statement from Wayne, so Tony dragged his feet over to the door. Doorknob in hand, he turned around one last time. “You'll have my official resignation letter in the mail by the end of the week.” The Gothamite did not meet his gaze. Instead, he gave a silent nod and stared into the unlit fireplace.

+

“Dad? Where is Tony?”  
  
Richard's timid voice shook Bruce out of his sleep-deprived thoughts. He blinked his office back into view and took a deep breath as he sat up straight from where he had slouched down deep into his executive chair. “He's gone as of this morning.” A look of pure shock spread out on Richard's young features. “What? Where? Why hasn't he told us goodbye? When will he come back?”  
  
Behind him, Tim's and Damian's silhouettes squeezed into the doorway. Their father stared at the pair of glasses on his desk to the left. His eyes burned and he put his elbows on the desk to press the heels of his palms into their sockets. “He is... not coming back.” He squeezed them shut the exact moment a round of youthful, agonized squeals erupted.  
  
“NO! Why?”

“What happened?

“You were mean to him and now he left us! This is all your fault!”

At that, their father took his hands away and rose with an air of authority.

“Enough of this! Go and eat breakfast.”

“There is no breakfast.”

Tim sounded petulant and dejected. Next to him, Damian took a few sniffling breaths. “We are going to die a barbaric death. Alfred is not here to feed us, and Tony will not be there to educate us on important things in life. We might as well lie back down in bed and wait for our demise.” Gnarling at his son's flat voice and exaggerated descriptions, Bruce reached for his glasses and slammed them on his nose.

“I am going to make breakfast. This can't be too hard.”  
The three boys shared a look, still horror-stricken at the current turn of events. Richard then spoke again, his voice low and insecure.  
“Do we still need to go to school?”

“... yes, of course. When does it start?”

“At 8.”  
Bruce looked at his Rolex. 9:37. He clenched his jaw and reached for the drawer with its spare car keys.  
“We will buy something for you to eat on the way.”

“I am NOT going to school under these circumstances!”  
The billionaire slammed the wooden drawer of his desk shut with force.  
“Damian!”

Tim looked at his elder brother for support. “No, he's right – Alfred is sick and Tony is gone and we are supposed to sit there and listen to math?” For a moment, it looked like their father was on the verge of blowing a fuse. On instinct, Richard and Tim both took a step back while Damian remained where he was, little arms crossed, and wearing a scowl on his face. Eventually, Bruce Wayne's shoulders slumped.

In slow motion, he walked over to where his boys stood, hurt and grieve in their eyes. He hunkered down to be at eye-level with his youngest.  
  
“Things will be alright. Trust me.”  
Damian's green eyes stared back at him for a long time with no sign of acceptance.  
“Prove it.”

 


	31. Chapter 31

Stupid Bruce Wayne.

Stupid, tight-arsed, self-righteous Bruce Wayne.

Stupid, tight-arsed, self-righteous, and nevertheless hot-as-hell Bruce Wayne.

Tony kicked his old backpack off the bed and dropped onto the well-worn mattress with a sigh. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten most of his belongings at the Manor and was now stuck with nothing but Boraxo hand soap, two pairs of fresh undies and socks, and a half-opened package of trail mix that had spilled out into his backpack.

He figured he also must have gotten a room at the dingiest motel in Gotham City that had ever existed. The numbers on the doors were made from spray paint, and they had real (albeit puny) door locks and keys with humungous key chains in the shape of wooden batons. Tony's room smelled of wet dog and spilled liquor, and the only TV channel without white noise showed nothing but Spanish telenovelas.

Pulling his knees up, Tony crossed his arms over them and put his chin up, staring at the small tube TV screen on the crooked sideboard. His phone was inside his backpack, still turned off, and part of Tony felt a sharp pang of remorse and guilt thinking about how he had left the boys behind without a proper explanation. Bruce's clipped words then resounded in his mind and helped to harden his resolve anew.

Shifting on a comforter made from cheap polyurethane, Tony blew out his cheeks and reached for the microwaved but cold Philly Cheese-Steak sandwich from the motel's vending machine. Munching along in between taking sips from a bottle of lukewarm Mountain Dew, he watched an overweight actress in a red satin dress two sizes too small vividly lament on about something he did not understand.

“Same, lady. Same.”

+  
  
Alfred Pennyworth saw something was wrong the minute Bruce Wayne set a foot inside his hospital room around noon. The billionaire was pale and sporting an unusual stubble on chin and cheeks. His eyes were small and framed by dark circles behind the glasses. “Looks like you and I need to switch places, Sir.” With a meager twitch of lips, Bruce lowered himself into the chair next to his bedside.

“It's not me who has a heart condition.”  
He took off his glasses and massaged his eyes with his free hand.   
“Maybe because I don't have a heart to begin with.”   
  
His unusual bout of self-commiseration made the butler quirk an eyebrow. “What has happened?” So Bruce Wayne told him. Alfred listened on to the mumbled and succinct words of his protege with an endless abundance of patience and understanding until the billionaire sat, head hung low, and glowered at the innocent linoleum floor at his feet.

“You are going to lose the best thing that has happened to you just because of your -pardon my words, Sir- goddamn stupid attitude. Go. Go and fix this while you still can, before it is too late. You almost lost him twice already, do not make the same mistake a third time. Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers.” Wordless, Wayne sat and stared at him, mouth agape. Eventually, it curled into a tiny, rueful smirk.  
  
“Thank you, Alfred. I think I... needed that.”  
The butler leaned back into the pillows, tired but smug.  
“You are welcome, Master Wayne. And now kindly see to signing the release papers, I need to go home.”

+  
  
The ATM rattled and whirred. Pulling the few bills out, Tony was quick to stuff them into his wallet. He glimpsed over his shoulder. No one was behind him, and he forced his all too vivid imagination back under control. It was barely 10 pm when he had discovered he was out of cereal for the upcoming bland breakfast morning.

Tony then threw the hood from his sweater jacket back over his baseball hat and kept his head down as he headed over to where the nearest 7-11 store was located around the corner. This part of Gotham was a lot different than the Palisades, even if it was not the Narrows. Sodden newspapers lay strewn across the pavement and plumes of steam rose from beneath the ground.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and trashcans toppled over with a loud, metallic rattle. Distracted, Tony almost bumped into a man who stepped into his way. He was scruffy and haggard, and wore a tattered long coat. “Got a couple of pennies to share, fella?” Shaking his head, Tony tried to sidestep him but the guy blocked his path. “I just saw you at the ATM.” Tony clicked his tongue and half-shrugged.  
  
“I didn't get pennies.”  
All of a sudden, a gun was aimed right at his heart.  
“Cocky piece of shit. Your money. Now.”

Glimpsing down at the muzzle, Tony swallowed and raised his hands, palms up. “Aw, man, c'mon. I just got 20 bucks for the rest of the week.” His tone was still quite whiny, and the mugger's face twisted with growing anger. “Shut the fuck up, asshole!” A distinctive click of a hammer being cocked made Tony flinch. “No one's gonna give a shit if I kill you and take your goddamn money.”

Bracing himself for the worst, Tony squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away from the bullet that was going to end his miserable, lonely life in a dirty alley of Gotham City. Instead there was a whoosh, an “Oomph” that clearly escaped his aggressor's mouth, and a few punching sounds. When he dared to open his eyes, he came face to face with a huge, dark, humanoid creature dressed in black from head to toe.

It was masked, with two pointy horns upon its head. Sharp blades protruded from its forearms while a long, massive cape wafted in the air behind it. Looking down to the unmoving robber on the ground, Tony's eyes widened in shock. He held out both of his arms and walked backward. “Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Listen, I told the other fella I just have twen... ten bucks left, and I really...”

The creature zeroed in on him until Tony's back hit a brick wall with a thud. “I don't want your money.” The voice was a dark rasp. Blinking rapidly, Tony stared up at his opposite. “Wh-... what do you want?” Instead of an answer, the creature reached for its cowl. And there and then, in the darkened alley, Bruce Wayne met his gaze with something between contrite and weariness.  
  
“For you to know that this is why I cannot be with you the way you want me to.”  
Aghast, Tony's eyes darted all over his armor, sweated countenance, and the black war paint around his eyes.  
“You... fucking weirdo!”

 


	32. Chapter 32

They were standing face to face for the longest time; Tony's eyes still full of disbelief as they roamed over the billionaire's attire. As soon as Bruce dared to take a step towards him, Stark flinched. Wayne frowned. “I am not going to harm you.” Disbelief and hurt crept into his voice, which was back to sounding normal. “Ah, but have you looked at yourself? This isn't a Winnie The Pooh costume if I may remind you.”  
  
After Tony's voice, too, had returned to its usual, cocky undertone, he crossed his arms in a huff. “SHEESH, I don't believe this! All this time, you had me fooled with your clumsy and awkward facade!” Bruce gritted his teeth. “I am not cl...” Angry at himself for raising to the bait, he stopped. “No one knows who the Batman is. No one can know, for that matter.” Tony uncrossed his arms and pointed at his face.

“No, I meant the glasses. I know by now you don't actually need them, Mister 20/20 vision. I looked through them.”  
  
Bruce took a very deep breath. And another one.  
  
“Batman doesn't wear glasses.”

“... that's the most stupid explanation I've ever heard about a secret identity. A pair of plain glasses. Pshh.”

“No, it's not!”

Their mutual stare down only lasted a few heartbeats. Tony raised his chin with a judging glint in his eyes.

“What about the boys?”

“I don't want them to know.”

A raised eyebrow.  
  
“They will at some point, though.”

Wayne's lips thinned before he spoke.

“When the time has come.”  
  
“So no one knows? Nah. Al, probably, right? Right. Al knows everything. And I bet Lou, the ol' fox, too.”

A pause.  
  
“Plus Jason.”

“Ahh. That the reason he wants to straighten your ass out?”

“Partly, yes.”  
  
“He probably thinks your fake nearsightedness is beyond ridiculous, too.”  
  
“Can we please stop talking about those goddamn glasses!?”

“Uhhh, you're using swear words. I like your dark persona already. So much more badass. And that suit is pure kink, too.”

In the distance, police sirens rumbled. Bruce re-donned his cowl, grabbed Tony by the waist, and pulled out a grappling gun. “We are going to have this conversation somewhere else.” They shot up into the sky to a surprised outcry from Tony's part and landed high upon a rooftop. After his initial adrenaline rush had ebbed off, Stark pushed himself out of the hard embrace and brought a few inches in between them.

“Gimme a li'l space here, whew, I gotta...” He breathed in and out for a while. “... this is the weirdest shit in the history of weird shit that has happened to me in the past few... no, scratch that - in my whole friggin' life, and boy, does that say something!” He looked at the masked man again, inspecting his massive armor for the longest time. Eventually, Tony's brows twisted into a frown.

“I don't even know where to start, but what I can say for sure is: Screw you for choosing cosplay over me.”  
For a few heartbeats, nothing happened as they stood facing each other while gusts of wind swirled around them.  
Cape floating in the air, the Batman then sunk down on one armor-plated knee and reached out to take one of Tony's hands in his.  
  
“Would you still marry me, despite everything?”  
  
Speechless, Tony looked at the black, barbed glove around his fingers. “WHAT?! You... what?! You-- you can't be serious!” Bruce's mouth curved into a lopsided grimace. “You said you wanted a commitment.” Behind the cowl, two glittering eyes then slid to the floor. “You are free to decline, of course.” At that, Tony blurted out a laugh like he was beyond incredulous and ran his free hand through his hair.

"Oh boy... seriously, Mister?? Six effing months of unresolved sexual tension and frustration, and you still think I'd turn down the best chance of my life? I mean, yeah, I gotta wrap my head around you cross-dressing as a flying rodent, but not before getting to know all the juicy details behind this overtly strange gig.” Behind the mask, Bruce's eyes traveled back up and darted in between his for the longest time.  
  
“That-- is a... yes, then?”  
The visible part of him looked like he was holding his breath. Tony tapped against the cowl.  
“Take that thing off and get up.”  
  
As soon as he was face to face with Bruce Wayne's drenched appearance again, Tony cupped his cheeks.  
“That is a yes."  
Their kiss tasted of salt, musk, and faint, waxen-like war paint.

Once it was over, Tony licked his lips and got back down from where he had been standing on his tiptoes. “But I lied. You may keep the glasses. They actually look sexy on you.” Wayne rolled his eyes, which had a rather comical effect in his present regalia, before he took him across rooftops and through a labyrinth of dark alleys until they arrived at a massive tank-like vehicle hidden in the shadows.

“Why haven't I seen that one in the garage? Oh, wait, right – secret identity car... vessel...mobile... Bat...mobile.”  
At the menacing growl and gesture of the man in question, Tony hopped into the passenger seat.  
“It looks like a Lambo had sex with a tank. That's my jam. I'm starting to warm up to this crazy show.”

Once he sat secured in the hardened carbon seats, Bruce pressed the ignition button to which the vehicle sprang to life with a deafening engine roar. Tony licked dry lips and stared on, fascinated, as the display flickered to life. “I have the weirdest boner right now.” His masked fiancé pressed some switches. “You are not going to drive this.” Stark gripped a carbon bar to his right and pulled a face.

“Boo.”

As soon as the Tumbler set into motion, Tony let out a volley of expletives to show just how much he was enjoying himself.

“At least let me have a look under its hood.”

“... No.”

An exciting, almost-chase with an ambitious cop car, several disregarded red traffic lights and a few mowed down picket fences and trashcans later, they were on the homestretch for the Manor. The jump through the waterfall was the perfect culmination of the night and had Tony whooping out loud in sheer merriment. “I just nerdgasmed! We gotta have sex in this beast at least once!”

His fascination held on when he first laid eyes upon the cave and its equipment. His attention only switched to his newly-appointed fiancé when Bruce began stripping off the armored parts of his suit and stowed them away in a huge case made from see-through material. Rubbing his palms, Tony began to unzip his jacket. “Looks like we're on the same page here, excellent!”  
  
That was when Bruce grabbed him by the arm and ushered him into a secret elevator.

 


	33. Chapter 33

Up in Wayne's bedroom, Stark sprawled out on the mattress and regarded the man in his techno-mesh undersuit across from him. “Go take a shower, I'll wait here.” At the dumbfounded stare, Tony propped himself up on his elbows and pulled a face that bordered on thinly veiled insecurity. “That is if you want me to? I dunno which stage we're at, actually. Somewhere between break-up and engaged is my best guess.”

Bruce wiped his smudged face and pursed his lips. “Stay, I'll be quick.”

For a while, Tony listened to the water running in the shower and looked around for something to busy himself with. Bruce had no TV in his bedroom, a factor that clearly needed to be renegotiated. About to ask where the docking station for music was hidden, Stark scrambled off the bed and padded over to the bathroom. Seeing the water had stopped running he gave a knock and entered right after.

By now, Wayne stood in front of the mirror, a towel slung around his hips, and stared at him through the thin strip of glass that had been cleared from a sheen of fog. Tony simply stared back. “I... uh, was looking for music and... oh, boy.” His eyes began to roam around the many scars littering Wayne's whole body. Bruce's smile became tight. “If this repels you, we don't have to share the same bathroom.”

Entranced by his injuries, Tony glimpsed back up. “Huh?” The Gothamite braced himself against the sink and lowered his head with a small frown. “It isn't attractive. I know.” Shaking his head in disbelief, Stark walked up to where he stood. “Are you kidding? I just wish you wouldn't have had to suffer through all of those.” His fingertip traced along a long, knobbly white scar on Bruce's right shoulder.

“That's why I've never been able to ogle you out sunbathing.”

His voice took on a rueful, almost sad note. Bruce looked down to follow his motions. "That's kind of an oxymoron in Gotham. Sunbathing, I mean.” Their eyes met again. With a warm smile, Tony leaned in to place a kiss on the marred skin. “Honeymoon's gonna be somewhere sunny then.” When he looked up, the Gothamite's eyes were darker than before. Stark inhaled deep and stepped back. “But for now hurry up, I gotta pee.”  
  
Ten minutes later, they lay side by side in Wayne's king-size bed. Tony, too, had made use of the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth, and now lay in a rented, too big t-shirt and fresh boxer briefs under the covers. Bruce's body radiated warmth from his shower, and Tony inched closer until their noses touched. “Way better than the first time we slept together.” Bruce suppressed a yawn and grimaced at him.

“When you invaded my private space, you mean.”

Two dark-brown eyes lost their cheeky touch and became affectionate. “Now I know why you haven't even noticed me – I never understood how someone could be so beat from juggling a couple of measly business figures all day.” A meager smirk. “Appearances can be deceiving.” He freed a hand from under the covers to cup Tony's cheek. “May I?” The latter nodded and received a warm but chaste kiss on his lips.

Once they separated, Stark made a low, tutting noise. “So you finally admit I'm perfectly capable of dealing with things other than your kids?” No answer. Tony frowned. On closer inspection, Bruce's eyes were closed and he was breathing deep, already fast asleep. Tony Stark curled up at his side and placed a careful hand around the taller man's midriff. “One of these days, B. One of these days.”

+

The reactions of the boys the next day were unanimous.

“About time!”

“Can we still call Tony Tony, or dad II?”

“I don't want a new nanny. I am too complicated to get used to another pedagogic arrangement by now.”

From where Bruce and Tony stood side by side, the billionaire tried for a stern, parenting expression. “Tony is still going to be responsible for your education and making sure you keep up with your schedule.” Stark's face morphed into fake confusion. “I am?” Upon Bruce's glower, he put up a megawatt smile.

“Why yes, of course, I am. And, puhlease, none of that dad stuff, ever, because I don't want to be associated with any of those lame dad jokes. You can reserve those for this fella here.” He patted Bruce's strong chest, earned himself a very flat look, and looked at the boys again. “Nothing's gonna change for you guys, really. And now off to school with you.”

Alfred, who had returned to the Manor a little earlier, saw them holding hands as they entered the dining room. He was already back in his uniform, but there were two maids and a servant who did most of the table-setting work before they retreated. Pennyworth's features softened at the sight of the two young men. “I presume congratulations are in order, Sirs?”  
  
Tony raised their joined hands up into the air like a boxer after a victorious fight. “He finally admitted he couldn't live without me anymore.” Bruce Wayne looked like he was about to object for a split second. Upon the real and honest joy on Tony's face, however, his scowl morphed into a small but sincere smile. He reinforced his grip on the fingers that were interlaced with his. "We still have to buy you a ring to make it official.”  
  
All smitten, Stark beamed up at him.  
"Something with a lot of bling-bling.”  
Bruce’s thumb caressed the back of his.  
  
“Anything you want.”

Alfred Pennyworth began to hum a happy-sounding little melody as they took a seat next to each other, hands still entwined upon the table, and poured them their favorite coffee and tea. “I do presume the perfect opportunity to show off the, as Master Anthony so aptly put it, bling-bling, is about to arise very soon.” The billionaire nodded. Tony cast confused eyes from one to the other.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
Alfred put a plate with waffles, fruit, and syrup under his nose.  
“Master Wayne’s official birthday party.”  
  
Letting go of Bruce's hand to pick up his fork, Tony stabbed a piece of cantaloupe. “I thought you hated parties.” His fiancé reached for his steaming mug of tea. “I do, but they are the most effective way to keep the investors and shareholders happy.” He then eyed his long-time confidant again. “Alfred, would you call Harry Winston to make an appointment here at the Manor? Today or tomorrow, if possible.”

“Certainly, Sir. How many items should I tell them to bring along?”  
Blowing across the hot liquid, Wayne's eyes shone with serenity.  
“Only the best.”

As soon as they were alone, Tony slid his chair closer to that of his fiancé. About to lean in, he paused with a pensive expression. “Um, can we... do that now? Kiss in broad daylight?” Bruce's lips stretched into a lazy smile. “I don't see why not.” Five minutes later, Tony was sitting square in his lap, lips locked and hands exploring new territory.

After a while of making out, the billionaire took Tony's face in between his palms and forced him to meet his gaze. “I think... we need to... take things... a little... slower.” Stark's eyes were deep and stormy. “You mean no sex before the wedding?” Bruce licked his swollen lips and lowered his own, treacherously wandering hands. “We...” Tony took it as an invitation to lean in and nuzzle below his earlobe.  
  
The Gothamite's eyes rolled shut with exasperated pleasure.  
“... will see.”  
Alfred's cleared throat eventually brought them back to the present.

 


	34. Chapter 34

During the upcoming days and weeks, changes found their way into the Wayne household. Established routines got modified and altered to fit the latest developments, starting with Tony moving into Wayne's wing while keeping his old quarters as a retreat option, storage room, and walk-in closet. Bruce let him concede after sitting down and telling his fiancé all about his way into the secret identity abyss called the Batman.

Tony understood his motives and need for secrecy, even if he had a few objections of his own; his concern for Bruce's safety and the how and when to let the boys in on it being the highest-ranked ones among them. So far, their busy daily (and in Bruce's case, nightly) schedules had also prevented them from much more than hearty make-out sessions and the occasional, sloppy handjob under the blankets.

Either Bruce was out on the city's rooftops, came back to Tony already fast asleep, or was too beat to speak more than two coherent sentences.  
  
Apart from that, they at least began to get to know each other in several other, intimate ways.

“Not here.”

“It needs cleaning, too.”  
  
Wayne scowled at the puddle of soapy water inside the marble sink. And all around the sink for that matter.  
“Not. Here. And not now.”  
Grumbling around the foaming toothbrush in his mouth, Tony grabbed his new Rolex and left the bathroom.

“Killjoy.”

Once Bruce was done shaving, he discovered the toothpaste specks on plush, expensive carpeting. The billionaire followed its trail over right into the dressing room where his fiancé now stood on his toes, sporting a severe case of bedhead, toothbrush wedged into one corner of his mouth and rummaged around the far back of a large closet. “I know I had a special kind of brush somewhere. Maybe it's still in my old room. Gotta check.”  
  
With an affectionate snort, Bruce reached out to clasp his shoulders and prevented him from hurrying away. “First things first. You need to get ready, we're meeting with the caterer in less than an hour.” He added a placatory kiss to Tony's forehead which prompted Stark to remove the toothbrush, raise his chin, and purse his lips. It would have been adorable if not for the white foam that threatened to dribble down his chin.

An unwillingly comical notion crossed Bruce's mind, and he pressed his lips together to avoid to laugh. Tony put his arms akimbo in his posh silken jammies. "What?” Wayne released him and made a dismissive gesture. “Nothing, it's...” Stark gave him the best evil-scientist-glare he could muster up. Bruce smirked. “I am not kissing you when you look like you have rabies.” Dark-brown eyes widened in playful indignation.  
  
"Why, you! C'mere...!”  
Bruce escaped his slobbery attempt and pointed into the direction of the bathroom.  
“Get back in there.”  
  
Tony stuffed the toothbrush back into his mouth with a dramatic gesture and spread his arms open wide, Rolex still in one hand.  
“Canyoumakeupyourmind?”  
More white, bleaching stains adorned the precious carpet before Tony did as he was told. Bruce sighed.  
  
Alfred was not going to be amused.

+

Standing side by side in the spacious dressing room, Bruce Wayne straightened his sleeves and fixed his cufflinks. His glance then fell upon the well-groomed man next to him who had just finished tying his bow-tie. “I hope you don't mind me telling you one more time just how sexy you are.” He reached for Tony's waist and pulled him close. The latter grinned and pressed himself up against his fiancé's broad chest.

“Nope, still diggin' it.” He freed his left arm to stretch it out and inspect the scintillating ring on his finger. “Just like I’m diggin’ this baby.” Bruce regarded him and the piece of jewelry with solemn contentment. Tony then squinted upward. “Though, technically, I should’ve bought you something expensive, seeing it’s your big day, but damn – d'you know how hard it is buying something for someone who’s got everything?”

Wayne’s fingers began to run up and down his back. “I liked the present you made me early this morning.” His fiancé snorted with good-natured spite. “Blowjobs don’t count.” Bruce leaned in and pecked his nose. “Then having you around is enough of a present.” Tony gave a playful smack to his chest. “Old schmoopie.” It was February 19th, Bruce’s birthday, and also their very first high society party as a couple.

Tony pretended not to be but was nervous right down to the bone. He worried their engagement would drive away those elite investors Bruce wanted to please, potential homophobes among them notwithstanding. “I thought about this some more, and we really don't have to… y’know… make a big fuss. I’ll just weasel in and say hi at some point.” Bruce’s hand around his waist tightened. "I want people to know you belong to me.”  
  
The honesty and determination in his voice made Tony swallow.  
Eventually, he put up a tentative smile.  
“Okay.”

+

It was 7:30 when Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark stepped down the stairs of Wayne Manor side by side to welcome their 150 guests. All invitees had previously been encouraged to donate to the Thomas & Martha Wayne Foundation instead of bringing gifts. There was, however, a medium-sized table close to the long buffet table that was slowly but steadily filling with flowers and wrapped presents, many of them bottle-shaped.

Alfred was instructing a servant to take stock of the growing pile before heading back to the grand foyer where people still streamed in. At the sight of a very distinctive, bald head in the crowd, Tony tried not to fidget. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and put up his most charming demeanor. At some point, his and Bruce's separation was inevitable, even if Wayne’s eyes kept on finding him in the crowd.

Seeing Bruce had his hands full with accepting birthday wishes and congratulations, Tony mollified him with a smirk and a wink before he got approached by a blonde woman and her gray-haired, stocky husband. “Sooo, you are the little devil who managed to steal the heart of the Prince of Gotham. Quite an impressive achievement.” Stark took his hands out of his dress pants’ pockets and put up a happy façade.

“Well, I didn’t really aim for that to happen, but life’s crazy weird sometimes.”

The woman gave a polite little laugh. “How did the two of you meet?” Tony held up a finger as he snatched an hors-d'oeuvre from the tray of a passing waiter. “That's quite the corny story. I was working for Mister Wayne before things developed.” The sequins on the woman's dress gleamed as she cocked a hip and sipped her champagne. “How lovely. Which field of Wayne Enterprises have you worked at if I may ask?”

Stark chuckled and popped the cracker with spicy spread into his mouth. “Oh, no, I was… well, am still… the nanny of his sons. I won’t go letting their education slide now that their father and I are… y’know.” The woman threw her husband a peculiar look. “No, of course… not.” She put up an apologetic grin and took her husband’s arm. “We have to say hello to the Stephens, darling.”

Tony waved them off before heading for the buffet line, trying to get something to eat. He looked around for Bruce and found him engrossed in a conversation with a man in an outfit that did not scream ‘price tag’ at first glance. He wore a thick pair of glasses, a mustache, and a pair of brown shoes that did not match his suit. Somehow, Tony instantly liked him, and from the way Bruce held himself, he did, too.

“If that isn't Nanny Stark.”

At the sarcastic voice from behind, Tony whirled around. Lex Luthor stood and smiled at him. It was not a friendly smile. “Actually, it’s Tony Stark.” The billionaire from Metropolis nodded in mock-understanding. “Tony Wayne, rather, no? Congratulations on your... engagement with Bruce. Didn’t see that one coming.” Stark gave a cautious nod. Luthor exposed a set of pearly white teeth before he nipped on his drink.

“Then again, nobody around here tonight did.”  
  
Tony forced his hands to not clench into fists. “That's because my personal life isn't the topic of this event.” Luthor nodded again, though it spoke of nothing but faux honesty. “But it is such a wonderful development, isn't it? Straight up ‘Pretty Woman’ material. Oh, and definitely a development I couldn’t have guaranteed you working under my sponsorship, so you did everything right, I guess." Stark took a deep breath.

"Listen, this has nothing to do with..."

The bald man held up an index finger and made a downright patronizing, tutting noise. "No need for vindications, Nanny Stark, please." At the way Tony began to grind his jaw, Luthor's smile turned even more endearing. "It's just, hmm, you see, I am actually beyond surprised that someone like Bruce Wayne has the guts to marry so, so far out of his social class, and...”

“... and he is going to love every minute of it.”

At the dulcet, deep voice from behind, both turned around.  
  
The Gothamite stepped closer, put a hand on the small of Tony's back, and held on tight even as he felt his fiancé trying to pull away. A guileless Luthor tutted. “Ah, Brucie. Brucie, Brucie, Brucie. Your naivete is going to be your downfall one day, let me tell you.” Lex then placed his empty tumbler on the tray of a nearby passing waiter and took a champagne flute instead. With a gesture of grandeur, he pointed it at them.

“Oh, but... no offense, Tony.”

He was about to meander off to have another conversation somewhere else when Stark cleared his throat. “Full offense actually, Lex.” At that, the bald man stopped walking and turned around, one eyebrow arched in a diabolical manner. Tony stood, head tilted slightly, and regarded him with a condescending smirk, stroking his goatee. He made sure the gesture fully displayed his sparkling, massive engagement ring.

“But I'll let it slide seeing you’re gonna be in need of Bruce’s corporate support very soon.”

Ignoring him, the Metropolis billionaire laughed, only to focus on Wayne with a dangerous glint in his eyes immediately after. “I am going to blow you out of the water, Bruce, better mark my words. Enjoy your honeymoon before your company is going to lose the race for the clean energy market once and for all.” Left behind, Bruce and Tony watched him make his way through the crowd. Stark harrumphed.

“Jerk. He’s so not gonna get a Save The Date card.”

Bruce released the breath he had been holding and adjusted his glasses. “Spread it on thick, why don’t you.” At the exasperation in his voice, Tony glimpsed at him. “Huh?” His fiancé threw him a slightly scolding look. “My corporate support? LexCorp is the leading candidate for renewable energy solutions. WE hasn’t brought anything solid to the table for the past years.” Tony's eyes twinkled.

“Ah, but that was before you went and married a technical genius disguised as a nanny.”

Switching his scowl for a more favorable smile, Wayne took him by the elbow and steered him onto the dance floor. To soft jazz tunes performed by a live band, the two of them began to sway to the rhythm. Once he was sure they were not being eavesdropped upon, Bruce's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “I thought you were a mechanic.” His fiancé cast him an enticing smirk from close up. “I am.”

At that, Tony made a move to take over the lead in a fluid motion. “I am also full of surprises, dear.” Wayne went along willingly but not without a “Did you ever have it tested? Your IQ?” Stark made tutting noises. “No. Also, why do you have to be built like a brick house? I wanted to dip you.”

With an uncommon, mischievous glint in his eyes, Bruce Wayne put one strong arm around Tony's back and lowered him in a swift, unforeseen and Hollywood-worthy dip. Stark squealed out once at the sudden change of equilibrium and stared up at the good-natured spite on his fiancé's chiseled features. “I am also full of surprises.” From where he clawed into Bruce's biceps, Tony gave him a pointed, slightly incensed glare.

“Wouldn't I know. Now let me back up, Rhett Butler, people are staring.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's engagement ring could look something like this:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/95/93/61/959361f6739b2f5fd5438c3ec901602b--sapphire-diamond-diamond-rings.jpg
> 
> Yes, this one really popped up when googling for 'Harry Winston men's engagement rings'. I think it's sufficiently bling-bling for Tony's taste, no? Also, any similarities to an ARC reactor are purely coincidental ;))
> 
> And just because... the watch in question:  
> https://www.rolex.com/watches/cosmograph-daytona/m116509-0055.html


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might require a higher rating for some studmuffin luvin (albeit of the not-too-graphic kind) :D

Around 11 pm, they left the party guests at the mercy of Alfred and the security personnel and retreated upstairs into the private quarters of the Manor. Bruce undid his cufflinks, though not without a thoughtful and apprehensive glance at the quiet man by his side. “You look like you're contemplating your life choices.” A snort, then Tony twirled what used to be his bow tie around a finger.

“You mean cause your snobby guests called me a gold-digger behind my back, knowing fully well I was able to hear? Nah. Not really.”

With a flick of his wrist, the silken piece of fabric landed upon the chaise-lounge in the corner. Wayne said nothing, hung up his tuxedo jacket and came to stand behind him. His palms slid upon Tony's shoulders and began to knead a tight set of muscles. “I wish I could've spared you the humiliation.” His voice was low and grave. Their eyes met in one of the many mirrors opposite of the dressing room.

Upon seeing the misery on his face, Tony Stark put up a brave smirk and reached up to pat one of his hands. “Takes a lot more than that.” Without preamble, Wayne started to take off his jacket for him. Tony's eyes narrowed in playful indignation. “Are you really going for sexytimes to take my mind off of things here?” A warm set of lips brushed along the sensitive skin below his ear. “It is still my birthday, we are alone, and...”  
  
Tony's eyes fluttered back open to squint at Bruce's reflection. “... and technically, we're not married yet.” At his objection, two hazel eyes glimpsed up. “Are you saying you're a 32-year-old virgin?” With a peeved expression, Stark sidestepped him, or at least tried to. “Practically, we might _never_ be married, I just realized.” Bruce's grin turned as predatory as his grip turned solid. “Playing hard to get only makes me want you more.”  
  
His nimble fingers had finished divesting Tony of his silken button-down shirt and traveled further south. “Speaking of hard...” Stark groaned in either exasperation or smoldering desire. “Geez, if I'd known exposing your alter ego would unleash such a virile, sexy beast in you, I would've long since gone and stumbled into your secret Batcave.” From where Bruce was nibbling at his throat, he became busy with unbuttoning Tony's pants.

“Don't call it a Batcave.”

That was when Tony twisted in his grip and reached up to take off Bruce's glasses. Instead of putting them aside, however, he put them on with a smug curl of the lip. “But that's what it is, no? Those little critters were everywhere from what I've seen and heard.” Undeterred, Wayne dipped his head low and shoved his hand inside Tony's boxer shorts. “Not. A. Batcave.”

Eyes rolling in the back of his head from pleasure, Stark shimmied out of his silken dress pants. “Whatever you say, darling.” Bruce took it as an initiative to push him over into the bedroom and down on the king-size mattress. It took him less than two minutes until they were both naked and pressed up against each other. By now, Tony's breath was hitching and almost as heavy as Bruce's.

From his position on top, the Gothamite bent down to capture his lips in another open-mouthed kiss before he breathed into Tony's ear.

“Want you.”

“Before our wedding night?”

“Now.”  
  
He made a small, thrusting motion with a quite prominent part of his anatomy. Stark opened his eyes, pupils slightly dilated. “Wanna screw my brains out?” It prompted a slow and highly-seductive smile. “If you let me.” Instead of a reply, Tony hooked his legs around his back and pulled him in close. “Been a while, tho.” Bruce took the glasses from Tony's nose and put them on his nightstand before he reached for its top drawer.  
  
“Same here.”

A dark-haired head rose from the mattress and watched him fetch a condom and a small nondescript bottle. “Should I be worried?” A soft chuckle, then Wayne dipped his head low and suckled on his throat. “I got this.” Once his fingers were sufficiently lubed and warmed up, Bruce trailed them down Tony's lithe body. The latter first shivered, then bucked into his touch, giving little whimpering noises of encouragement.

He moaned out loud when Bruce began to feel him up with more than one finger at some point, all the while continuing the suckling ministrations on Tony's throat. “God, babe, please...” His eyes were dark with lust. “I got you.” Bruce's voice was husky and low against his skin as he repositioned himself and removed his hand. He gave a few strokes to Tony's shaft before he moved his hips forward, slow and deliberate.

Two sturdy hands went up to grip his pecs, thumbs brushing his nipples. Bruce gave a quiet groan. “N... no marathon session t... this time.” He searched for his lover's gaze and saw him smirk, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes. “Same here.” Once they were fully united, Bruce placed his arms left and right of Tony's head and buried his face in the crook of his neck with a shuddering exhale of breath. “Okay?”

Tony reached up and ran his hands over his shoulders and upper back. “More than okay.” He shifted his pelvis. “Now fuck me.” It made Wayne growl. He began to set up a steady rhythm of thrusts, bracing himself atop his fiancé to be able to look him in the eyes in between sloppy kisses.

As it turned out, Tony Stark was a very vocal person in the throes of passion. It did not take long for his moans to become louder, for his words to turn into rather incoherent babbling. When Tony reached down in between their bodies to stroke himself, Bruce lost control and came with a throaty grunt, head hung low and gasping for air through his mouth.

Tony watched him, enraptured, and increased his manual pace until his toes curled seconds later and warmth spilled all over his stomach. For a few moments, both gathered their bearings, still intimately united. Bruce's forehead dipped lightly against Tony's while he braced himself left and right as to not crush him. Stark blinked up and cast him a beatific smile. “Happy birthday.” Wayne opened his eyes as Tony stroked his heated cheek.

“Indeed.”

At his sated smirk, he received a tap upon his lips. “Think this does count for 'best gift' after all, no?” Bruce nodded and drew back to dispose of the condom. Tony snuggled into the crook of his arm upon his return to the bed. “Now I can go marry you with a clear conscience.” Wayne squinted at him. “Why, did you think I was bad in bed or what?” Tony chuckled, his beard moving against Bruce's skin and making him twitch.

“Given all the dorky and prudish vibes I got from you, I couldn't entirely rule out that possibility.”  
  
Bruce grumbled and shifted at the tickling sensation around his armpit. “Way to ruin the mood.” Tony pressed a kiss to the nearest part of a sculpted but scarred pectoral muscle. “And just when I was about to praise that glorious dick of yours.” That earned him an uncommon, cheeky look. “Tell me something I don't already know.” Tony reached up to ruffle his hair further until two strong hands put an end to his mischief.

“You're pretty cocky for a tall, handsome, rich and charming guy.”  
  
Wayne pecked his nose before he turned to wrap and spoon him into a sleeping position embrace. “Comes with the territory.” As soon as the lights were off, Tony blinked his eyes open and waited until he was able to make out shapes and silhouettes in the dark. “The biggest question still remains, however... will I be an asset or a liability to you?” Bruce was already snoring into the pillow behind him, oblivious of his musings.

With a sad smile, Tony put his arm atop Bruce's and closed his eyes.

 


	36. Chapter 36

Pepper’s and Happy’s wedding took place at the beginning of Spring. Fort Tryon Park, a 40-minute drive from Gotham, welcomed all guests with sunny skies and temperatures in the upper 70’s. The first sprout of heather was already blooming and covered the surrounding terraced hills in bright, purple shades. For the most part, Bruce remained in the background and watched Tony in his role as Potts' designated best man.

The bride wore a classic white dress with micro-pearl beading and a flowing chapel-style train. Her groom tried to appear calm and suave in his tuxedo which slightly stretched across his stomach, but did not succeed. Eventually, Tony leaned in to whisper something into his ear. It prompted Hogan to widen his eyes, all nervousness forgotten for the moment. Stark nodded at him, dead serious, and clapped his shoulder.

It was then that Tony stole a glance Bruce's way. Their eyes met over the distance in an unspoken declaration of love, prompting Stark's face to light up as he was rewarded with a clandestine smile in return. Despite admiring his fiancé in a tuxedo, Wayne kept an eye out for Steve Rogers and his company; curiously enough a dark-haired woman by the name of Peggy. On the outside, Bruce ignored the dark looks they both shot him.  
  
Underneath a natural canopy of linden trees with a view on Hudson River and the Cloister Towers, the bride and her groom then exchanged vows, rings, and more emotions than anyone had ever assumed Harold Hogan to possess. After the teary-eyed ceremony, Tony reunited with his fiancé. “So glad this part is over. For a moment or two, I seriously thought Happy was going to lose it.”

Bruce's glimpsed at the couple up front who led the way along the lawns. “What did you tell him?” A flash of white teeth, then Tony interlaced their fingers. “Professional secret.” Together with the other guests, they headed over to the New Leaf Restaurant. Outside, on an oak-shaded, 5,000-square-foot back patio, champagne and hors-d'oeuvres were served while the newlyweds set up an iPod into a docking station.

When the first of many playlists to come echoed through the air, Pepper and Happy started making rounds to chat with their guests, starting with Tony and Bruce. “We’ve decided to skip a band and donate to the Fort Tryon Park Trust instead. It's a nonprofit organization that keeps the gardens tidy and neat.” The bride looked at Bruce with a bashful, near apologetic expression. The billionaire smiled back in honest appreciation.

“I think that's a wonderful idea.”  
  
As soon as the newlyweds were gone, Tony caught his lover's pensive stare. “I can basically see the philanthropist awakening in you.” Bruce put his untouched champagne flute aside. “What good does all of my money do if it doesn't help protecting the environment the boys grow up and live in?” His fiancé reached up to brush his cheek with a thumb. “Right you are. But we'll take it one endeavor at a time, babe. You'll see.”

Wayne returned his enamored smile with his usual, composed attitude. “Of course. We just need to agree on a date. Alfred keeps on asking.” Tony lowered his arm and squinted. “Date?” Bruce's lips twitched. “For our wedding.” Upon the stupefied glance he received, he was quick to add. “Which is the endeavor I assume you're talking about.” Stark inhaled deep, only to exhale with a grin. “Yeah, among... other things.”

+  
  
When it was time for all guests to sit down for a four-course meal, Bruce once more tried to ignore the way Steve Rogers glared daggers at their table. He, therefore, turned to the man by his side and put a hand upon one of his knees under the table. “Is this what you want as well?” Tony paused slicing his sirloin steak. “Huh?” Bruce smiled; a warm, shy, and very rare smile. “This kind of wedding?” Tony placed the silver cutlery aside.

“Oh. I haven’t really thought about the details to be honest. You, me, rings, Al and the boys, cake. Big cake.”

His answer prompted Bruce to grip his knee a bit tighter for a moment. “At least you have your priorities straight.” When one of Tony's palms landed on his thigh in return, Bruce did not flinch, not even as he squeezed. “That's probably the only straight thing about me.” They both chortled quietly at his joke, then the Gothamite put his napkin aside and patted his knee. “I’ll be to the restrooms real quick.”  
  
Tony nodded, removed his hand, and raised his chin. Bruce took the invitation and pecked his lips.

+  
  
As soon as he had washed his hands and exited the venue's restrooms, a voice rang out from behind.  
  
“Wayne.”  
Bruce turned and saw Steve Rogers standing in the doorway of the adjacent corridor, glaring at him.  
“Yes?”

The blonde man unfolded his arms from where they had been crossed over his chest.  
“I know it was you who pursued me for the entire loan balance of my shop. You and your legal lackeys.”  
Not a single muscle on the Gothamite’s face moved.  
  
“You were wrongfully trying to make Tony shoulder the majority.”  
Steve stepped closer to him, his whole stance belligerent.  
“We were both responsible. Now I lost nearly all of my personal assets!”

Bruce adjusted his glasses with a circumspect gesture.  
“You should have taken that into consideration beforehand.”  
A hand shot up and grabbed a fistful of Bruce’s tuxedo lapel.  
  
“You’re a rich piece of shit, Wayne, that’s what.”  
Still impassive, the billionaire locked eyes with him and reached up to remove the hold on his jacket.  
“This conversation is over, Rogers.”  
  
They were of similar height, and Steve's eyes narrowed as the other man refused to back down. “You think you’re tough, four-eyes? Tony must be desperate for money if he chose a pathetic rebound fuck like you.” The Gothamite raised his chin with an arrogant expression. “A self-righteous prick like you never deserved him to begin with.” Rogers clenched his fists and stepped so close that they were standing toe to toe.

“Why don’t we take this outside?”  
Bruce's glasses caught the reflection of the ceiling lights for a bright, flashing moment.  
“Fine with me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The location in question:  
> http://www.newleafrestaurant.com/fortryonpark/  
> http://www.newleafrestaurant.com/


	37. Chapter 37

“Soo, Mrs. Hogan, how does it feel to be off the market once and for all?”

From where they were grooving along to 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun', Pepper tilted her head. “I haven't really realized it. Probably won't until we're in Quebec.” Tony twirled her around with a flick of his wrist and grinned. “Oh yeah, your Eskimo-inspired honeymoon. How anyone can choose ice and snow instead of sun and sand is beyond me, tho. You're an odd couple alright.” His tone was teasing but full of affection.

She freed her right hand to be able to boop his nose with a look of mock-reproach. “Not all of us get to marry a billionaire with a private jet fleet at his beck and call and a few islands in the Caribbean, Mr. Wisecrack.” Tony scrunched up his nose and made a harrumphing noise. “Mr. Stark-Wayne-Wisecrack, if anything, and Bruce doesn't... wait, I don't even know if he owns an island. Thanks for reminding me to ask him.”

Pepper shook her head with a small roll of her eyes. “And I just told Peggy you're definitely not turning into a spoiled rich pinhead.” Tony clicked his tongue. “Pinhead, schminhead. But... been meaning to ask you what's up with that anyhow. Why's she here with him? Where's that little homewrecker Steve's so fond of? Bucky Blowjob?” The redhead sighed and cast her eyes down. “Steve and Bucky are taking a break.”

She did not elaborate, thus prompting Tony's expression to morph into malicious glee. “Huh. Karma's truly a bitch, eh?” His sardonic chuckle made her raise her eyes to meet his. “Looks like you did change.” Disappointment swung in her words. In an instant, Tony's face dropped and he stopped dancing. “Did not! And even if I go around pretending all the money Bruce owns ain't there - it still is. You can't blame me for that.”

Dead-serious, his hands clasped her by the shoulders as his eyes darted in between hers. "But I'm still me. Always will be." At the imploring tone in his voice, Pepper leaned in to peck his cheek. “I'm glad for that, Tony. And I'm truly happy for you and Bruce. Everyone's been saying this thing between you was just a sham, but I always hoped it wasn't. And now I... I see him looking at you, and,” Her eyes became softer. “He's the one.”  
  
Before the moment became too emotional, ‘It’s not unusual’ by Tom Jones started playing. Tony took the opportunity for an impromptu version of the 'Carlton' which had Pepper in stitches. They resumed their dancing, even though it resembled more a goofing-around, sing-along show; all previous tension forgotten. “Speaking of the one - have you seen Bruce?” Tony's eyes skimmed along the rows of tables around the dance floor.

A flushed-looking Pepper adjusted her veil and followed his gaze. “Not in the past ten minutes, no.” As soon as Tom Jones had faded out, Tony released her and stepped back. “I'll have a look. Be right back.” She nodded and turned around to walk over to her husband. Tony strolled through the crowded venue, not spotting the person he was searching for. The restrooms were also empty, and he headed for the main entrance.

By now, dusk had settled and drenched the outer scenery into shades of purple and black. Trees rustled in the soft wind above, their branches creating strange patterns through the sparse illumination of two nearby streetlamps. Inside, an upbeat version of 'Cha Cha Slide' started to play and reverberated through half-opened windows. Tony bopped along as he strained to see down the gravel path framed with flickering torches.

Before he decided to go check the parking lot for Bruce's Lamborghini, Tony then was able to make out a distinctive silhouette walking across the dark lawns into his direction. He frowned with irritation and skipped down the wooden stairs to meet his wayward fiancé. “Where have you been? I've been looking for you for the past... OH MY GOD!” The features on Tony's face derailed as soon as he saw his lover from close up.

With a nonchalant, sweet smile, Bruce reached up and brushed a careless hand over his busted lip. He was not wearing his glasses anymore and his hair was looking out of place. “It's nothing. Just a scratch.” He tried to hide his hand but Tony's grip and eyes were faster and discovered the bruises on his knuckles. “Like hell, what have you – where did you...” The Gothamite withdrew his hand and tried to smother his hair back.

“I just need to wash up a little bit.”  
  
Not bothering to explain, Bruce began to walk around the restaurant, towards the outdoor facilities of the venue. Mouth still agape, Tony hurried along to follow him. “Can you PLEASE tell me what's going on?!” Wayne pushed the door to the men's restrooms open and glimpsed inside. All of the stalls were empty. With a distressed expression, Tony watched him fish his glasses from the breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket.

The metal frame was mangled, the lenses splintered. Bruce put it aside on the rim of the sink with a dismayed expression. “I should have taken them out beforehand.” Tony's frown deepened. “Before WHAT!?” Water ran into the sink, and Wayne busied himself wetting a small stack of paper towels before pressing them to his bloodied lip. While he stood waiting for an answer, Tony saw stains of grass and dirt all over Bruce's back.

His eyes widened. “Ohmygod, no. Please don't tell me you got into a brawl with Steve in the park!” Wayne unbuttoned his jacket with an air of indifference. “I am not telling you anything.” He inspected the white dress shirt underneath and frowned at the red dots where shards from the broken lenses had punctured his skin. Tony made an appalled noise upon discovering them as well and immediately went to fetch more towels.

Bruce had to relent when his fiancé shooed his hands away, unbuttoned the shirt, and began to clean the area himself. The Gothamite therefore went back to dabbing at the bleeding cut on his upper lip and watched through the mirror how Tony set to work on his chest. “So where the heck is Steve?” Bruce smirked into the wet tissue with a look akin to morbid satisfaction. “On his way to ER if he's smart.” Stark's eyes shot up. “WHAT?!”  
  
A smirk.  
  
“Just kidding...”  
Tony raised an eyebrow to which Wayne's smirk increased in its sardonic nature.  
“... Maybe.”

As soon as Tony was convinced there were no more glass splinters inside his fiancé's skin and that the bleeding had finally stopped, he threw the pinkish towels into the nearby basket. Bruce was already re-buttoning his shirt before he slipped back into his tuxedo jacket. Tony pointed at his swollen upper lip. “That's still gonna be visible.” He hummed. “We could say you tripped and fell.” Bruce threw him a scathing look.

“I am not a klutz.”  
“Pepper's not gonna be sympathetic if she comes to learn you're a rowdy, especially at her wedding, so...”  
Wayne pulled a face that hovered between peevishness and resignation. Eventually, he blew out his cheeks.  
  
“I tripped and fell.”  
Tony heaved a final sigh and reached out to take his non-bruised hand.  
“Good boy.”

 


	38. Chapter 38

“And?”  
Lucius Fox removed his reading glasses and cast the two younger men across from him a meaningful look.  
“195.”  
  
Tony's eyebrows rose. "Eep." Next to him, Bruce closed his mouth and walked over to the desk to be able to look at the screen himself. “195. His IQ is at 195.” His voice sounded incredulous. Fox inclined his head. “Seeing the system maxed out, it appears so, Mister Wayne.” Looking all smug, Tony started to dangle his legs. “Told ya.” He snapped a bright blue bubblegum in between his teeth and hopped off the gurney.

“So. When are we gonna get to work on that fusion reactor thingy?”

The Gotham billionaire and his CEO shared a look. Fox then clasped his hands in front of his lap with a lenient little smile. “I think the best would be sometime after your wedding, no?” While Bruce Wayne said nothing and regarded the results on screen again with honest stupefaction, Stark gave an enthusiastic nod.

“Right you are, Lou, let's take a rain check on it. You've already blocked your calendar, didn't you? May 29th. My birthday, so BB here doesn't have any excuse to forget our anniversary.” A gray eyebrow rose. “BB?” Tony cocked his head. “I wasn't allowed to use Batsy-Baby or Brucie-Bear, and he's such a Grinch for other endearments, so BB it is.” He reached out to try and pat Wayne's arm, but the latter was out of his reach.

“Anyway, Lou, wedding date? Can we count on you?”  
  
Fox returned his smile. It looked like he fought hard against a bout of true merriment upon seeing the scowl on his employer's lips, daring him to comment on the issue of his nickname. “Of course, Tony.” Two thumbs went up. “Perfect. It's a bit short notice, but we'll make it work. Speaking of which: D'you still happen to have those nifty little gadgets I was working on back in the days? The Boom Boom Dollars?”

The older CEO tilted his head and pointed at a row of large black containers down the hall. “Drawer MRP-048.” Once he faced the billionaire again, Wayne's raised eyebrow greeted him. “Boom Boom Dollars?” A sly grin. “The Missile Retrosling Prototype. Tony calls them that because a single shot is worth $5,000.” Both of them watched Stark open the doors of the industrial closet. Fox then threw his employer a glance.

“He had a brilliant idea to make them cost-effective by exchanging ammunition for sonic compressors. Non-lethal, yet highly efficient.”

Wayne let that bit of information sink in as he slid his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Looks like he really has a lot of hidden talent up there in that crazy brilliant head of his.” It was said with admiring affection. Lucius clasped his hands behind his back with a complacent hum. “The way I see it, it's going to be a beneficial, if not thoroughly profitable endeavor. The military might become very interested in us in the long run.”

Bruce cast a loving if a bit exasperated glance over to where his fiancé was wielding two guns the size of his forearms around, busy striking a Rambo pose.

“But at what cost?”

His deadpan humor made Fox grin. He turned back to the readouts on the screen to save a copy from Tony's test for further reference. Bruce threw his lover another pointed look that the latter dutifully ignored. “Tony. Tony! TON... Hi. Can you please stop tearing this laboratory apart before you officially start working here?” Looking up with a delighted glint in his eyes, Tony slipped the guns back into the closet and locked it.

“Remember you promised I get to chose what to do for the rest of the day if I came along to play your little lab monkey?” Fox covered the potential snort with a small cough. Wayne sighed and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. With circumspect motions, he pulled out his new pair of sleek designer glasses for their return to the public upstairs. “Yes. Have you decided on something?” Stark sauntered over to them.

“You bet! I think I know just the right activity. Let's go pick up the boys!”  
Fox waved them off as they left, back at holding hands.  
“Enjoy your day off, Mister Wayne.”

+

A 30-minute drive in Bruce's black Porsche Cayenne Turbo S later, they arrived at the destination Tony's had typed into the navigation system. “A theme park?” Wayne threw his fiancé a nonplussed look that was met with joy. “Yeah, isn't it great?! Ohmygodyes, they even have Dodgems! C'mon, Dami, you're with me.” Stark increased his stride, pulling the boy along. Damian pointed at a certain car. "I want the blood-red one!"

Richard and Tim each got into a blue and green bumper car, leaving their father to get the pink car. There was a lot of booing at first when Wayne wanted to skip the ride altogether. "Na-ah-ah, I played nice and now you play nice, Mister W." At the old way of Tony addressing him, Bruce pulled a face but lowered himself into the cramped confines with a graceful, fluid motion. "Just this once."

Sped-up, dance pop music began to play and the lights began to flash from above. The track itself was circular, empty at present, and big enough for three cars to race side by side, or, in the Wayne family's case, bump each other out of the way. Their first rounds were dominated by Tony and Damian in a true demolition derby duo fashion. The youngest Wayne was fist-pumping along until Tim bumped into them.

Damian rose from his seat and seethed at the 13-year-old.

“Idiot!”

“Oculum pro oculo, dentem pro dente.” [An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth]

“No one speaks Latin, you noob!”

“I do and I'm not a noob, you dimwit!”

It was then that Tony felt the need to try and mediate, one hand curled into Damian's waistband to keep him from falling.

“Watch your mouth, Timmy Timster! And Dami, leave him alone.”

Tim gloated at his younger brother.

“Fortis fortuna adiuvat.” [Fortune favors the bold]

Damian's little nostrils flared.

“Suck my tuna!”

“DAMIAN! Sit down!”

At Bruce Wayne's roaring voice, the boy plopped back down into the seat next to Tony and crossed his arms. Stark gave a few tutting clicks with his tongue and leaned over the steering wheel with a diabolical grin. “You do realize we're gonna have to wreck you now, Tim. Sorry, I don't make the Dodgems rules.” At Tony's sing-song voice, Damian's scowl turned into a feral grin. “Yes, we will crush him.”

“All of you are losers!”

Richard whooshed past them, scoring a victory on the current round with his father coming in close behind. Wayne then pulled up alongside Tony's car with a thoroughly dismayed expression.“Richard understood what this is about. Anybody can be a one-man wrecking crew. The real goal is to avoid a collision while completing the circuit first. Which I haven't seen you do at least once.” Tony threw his fiancé a daring look.

“For reals? Now that you went and put my ten toes to Jesus you're getting competitive?”

From up front, Richard turned around. “Is that a bible reference?” Bruce's grin bordered on sarcastic. “Yes. Tony is a deeply religious man. One who is going to atone for all of his sins sooner or later.” Nodding along with a lopsided curl of the mouth, Stark gave a dexterous one-handed twirl of the small steering wheel and maneuvered the car until it sat next to Richard's. He then looked at the boy by his side.

“Kindly switch rides while I wreck your daddy's non-existent sense of humor and overly condescending ego there, Lord Hades.”

Damian did as he was told and scrambled over into the passenger seat of his older brother. Tony then veered his car around until it sat next to Bruce's. “You know what happens when two unbreakable forces collide, don't you, my love?” A small, dangerous smile appeared on Wayne's lips. “You are a genius, you tell me.” They locked eyes over the colorful little, blinking bumper cars. Tony's fingers tightened around the wheel.  
  
“Prepare to get owned, BB.”

+

“I can't believe they threw us out!”  
  
“I can.”  
  
Bruce's voice was flat on purpose.

Tony walked next to him with a sullen expression and his hands in his pockets as they left the theme park grounds, accompanied by the dark glares of the park manager and his half a dozen security guards. “How's it our fault those damn bumper cars are so easy to unhinge? I think we should go and build our own theme park next to the Manor." He glimpsed at the three dark heads trotting behind them.

Richard and Tim were texting on their phones while Damian was poking his tongue out at the manager. "Wouldn't you like that, boys? Your very own Neverland Ranch?" Upon the rotten glare from the billionaire, Tony was quick to pull a face. "Uh, maybe not a good comparison, but...” His fiancé's dismay deepened. “No theme park in the Palisades.” Bruce increased his stride, and Tony let him walk ahead to unlock the car.

Stark then slowed his steps until he fell in line with the boys trailing behind.

“Your dad's a really sore loser isn't he?”

As soon as they were on the road again, headed for the Manor, Tony twisted in the passenger seat to look at the three faces in the backseat. “Anyone hungry?” Brotherly looks were exchanged, then Richard as the designated spokesperson proclaimed their unanimous decision. “McDonald's!” A non-amused Bruce Wayne threw a glimpse into the rearview mirror. “There is food at home. Real food.”

It took less than three seconds until a steady chime of “McDonald's!” chants erupted and filled the air. Much to the billionaire's dismay, Tony soon joined in. To the quite ecstatic cheering of his sons and his fiancé, Bruce then pulled into the drive-thru. “Three,” Tapping at his arm made him look at Stark, who was shaking his head. Bruce sighed. “Four Happy Meals and a black coffee, please.”

The Porsche soon reeked of ketchup and fast food while Tony and the boys were busy fighting a war with their pocket-sized launcher collection.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pocket-sized Nerf toys collection:  
> http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vLeiVavkV_M/SwKACVhHwMI/AAAAAAAACOk/IT-Af84i2uU/s1600/mcdonalds_toys_nerf-toys_set-of-8_2009.jpg


	39. Chapter 39

The other day, Bruce was up in his office, discussing the upcoming revival of the fusion reactor project with his CEO, as well as other strategic business developments. Richard had requested to be dropped off at Barbara's place, and Tim and Damian each were busy doing homework in their rooms. Tony, therefore, seized his chance. “Al, I'm going to burn some pre-wedding calories. Be back in an hour!”

With those words, he skipped down the stairs to get his latest possession out of the shack. He had bought the mountain bike after discovering the many trail paths around the Palisades. With his favorite music plugged into his ears, he rode the hillsides and gravel paths through the wide nature scenery for 45 minutes. On his way back, he was overtaken by a pretty woman with long, auburn hair in a classic convertible sports car.

She, too, was headed for the Manor, arriving earlier than him. He caught up with her as soon as she was about to walk up the stairs. “May I help you, Ma'am?” At his voice, she swung around, pulled down her sunglasses, and sized him up from head to toe. “Where is the old butler who used to work here? Who are you?” She watched him carry his bike up the stairs. Thankfully, Tony had picked a lightweight carbon frame.

“Tony Stark. I am the family's nanny.” He reached the top without too much huffing and puffing. “And you are?” The woman's green eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “I am Damian’s mother.” Tony's stare became even wider. “Ah, uh… okay, Miss...”

“Al Ghul. Talia Al-Ghul. I need to speak to Bruce. Take me to him.”  
  
+  
  
“Your ex-wife is here.”  
The papers in Bruce's hands rustled. His incredulous expression greeted Tony from behind his report.  
“My what?!”

“Talia... something. She's sitting downstairs in the salon, waiting for her big family reunion.”  
Wayne put the documents down and reached for the glasses case resting on his desk.  
“Talia and I were never together, let alone married. We just had a...”  
  
“... fling?”  
  
Bruce's mouth curled at Tony's snippy wording, but he nodded. Stark gave a low hum. “She also knows about your masked shenanigans I take it?” The billionaire rose from his chair with a sigh. “I initially trained under her father years ago.” Tony scratched his cheek. “So Damian is...” Wayne shoved a hand into the pocket of his pants. “... an illegitimate child, yes. She did not inform me of his existence until he was four.”

Tony mulled over that fact for a little while and watched Bruce transform into his bespectacled alter ego. “Surely you must've gone and got it tested, I mean, all unprotected-sex-with-a-woman-you-barely-know aside, I bet lots of your female conquests would try to plant one on you and live off the billionaire benefits.”

At that, Wayne's expression turned brittle. “There were enough tests to confirm Damian is my own, even if the circumstances which led to him being conceived were... less than ideal. Or memorable, if you will.” Tony stared at him for a good five seconds, mouth slightly agape. "Sheesh, Bruce. There's a word for that, you know? A four-letter-word, and while it also ends on 'e', like 'love', it's not the same."

The Gothamite pressed his lips together tight before he put some space between them. "Leave it be. I love Damian. What happened back then is gone and in the past." Tony stared at his profile as Bruce evaded his gaze for the longest time. “Okay, I respect that. Just know it doesn't mean you are at fault. In any way.” They kissed, brief and desperate, before Bruce walked out to meet his guest, shoulder squared and head held high.  
  
+  
  
“Talia.”  
She turned around from where she had inspected the small, framed picture gallery on the mantlepiece.  
“You could've called beforehand.”

At his unsympathetic welcome, the woman cocked her hip and moved her head to flip her wavy hair back.  
“Just like you could have told me about your engagement other than I having to read about it in the papers.”  
Bruce crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and raised his chin in a challenging manner.

“What is it that you want?”

She walked over into his direction, heels clicking on ancient wooden floor panels. “I've come to take Damian with me. He is not about to grow up in an environment like this.” At that, Tony stepped in from where he had been hovering behind the ajar door. Visible distress was written all over his expressive features. “Hold up, lady – just because Bruce is marrying a man?” Talia looked at Tony like he was dirt under her fingernails.

“I reckon you are the case in point.” Her eyes narrowed. “But even so, this conversation does not concern you. Leave us alone.” Tony cast furious and slightly helpless eyes over to his fiancé. Bruce shook his head in his direction, once. “I'll be with you in a few minutes.” Stark locked his jaw and held his gaze for the longest time. Eventually, he caved in and stepped back out with a tilt of the head.

As soon as he was gone, Talia looked back at the Gothamite, who stood and regarded her with stone-faced rigor. “My father and I have spoken about this. I want to complete his education in Cairo.” At that, Bruce uncrossed his arms. “I'm not letting you get away with this.” Instead of being intimidated by the finger pointed at her, Talia's stance became belligerent. “You will not stand a chance if we do. One word from me and...”

Wayne gritted his teeth and took his arm down. His hands curled into tight fists. “And what? You are going to barge in and take our son away from me at gunpoint?” Her beautiful face twisted in displeasure. “Your penchant for dramatics is unparalleled as always, Bruce.” His chest was heaving, and he forced himself to exhale. “I am serious, Talia. I will fight you for him if I have to. Damian's life is anchored here, in Gotham.”

His tirade left her unimpressed. Talia put her arms akimbo and her chin up. “I remember you said you didn't want him to know you. Didn't want him here. Or have you forgotten?” At that, Bruce only glowered at her. His jaw worked as if he was searching for the right words. “Why don't we ask Dami what he wants?” Both of them swung around. Talia opened her mouth to protest, but Tony ignored her in favor of opening the door.

He opened it just wide enough to let the boy in question slip into the salon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if the story of how Damian was conceived has been retconned in comicverse, but there is this scene from the animated movie "Son of Batman" which has stuck with me all those years, because it is... uber creepy: 
> 
> https://youtu.be/vgmtahWISG0?t=28


	40. Chapter 40

Upon seeing her, Damian's face scrunched up in confusion. “Mother?” She abandoned her hostile stance and walked over to hunker down and embrace him. “Damian. My, you have grown.” The hug was awkward, seeing he did not make a move to reciprocate it. She gave an encouraging rub to his shoulders. “Haayati... rohi. [My life... my soul]. Aren't you glad to see me?”

The boy glimpsed at the stone-faced figure of his father and Tony's anxious, forced smile. “I... don't know.” His astute green eyes followed the motion of her long, red-painted nails along his sweater. Talia took his hesitation as an invitation to continue. “I was just discussing with your father if it wouldn't be a better idea for you to move back to Cairo with me.” Damian's reaction was instant.

“No!”  
  
In the back, Bruce Wayne's lips twitched, once, but he remained silent. His son then began to shake his head with vigor. “No, I don't want that. I have become acclimatized to the current establishment.” He began to detangle himself out of her embrace. It made his mother switch knees even if she kept on hunkering down in front of him. She threw her long, wavy hair over her other shoulder and tried for an indulgent smile.

“Think about it first. You will get to see your grandfather again. You've always liked him.”

Fire blazed all over the boy's features. His brows furrowed and he stomped a foot on the ground. “I said, no, dammit!” Out of instinct, Stark stepped forward. “Dami, you know what that means.” It prompted an immature pout. Tony prodded on. “Don't you?” A sullen nod. “But I only have ten for the rest of the week!” All relentless, his nanny held out a palm, making a come-hither gesture with his fingers.

To the bewildered look of his mother, Damian reached into the pocket of his pants and pushed a $5 bill into Tony's hand. The boy lowered his head and kicked the corner of the Persian rug. “Tony never lets me get away with swearing. I think he is going to make a useful, surrogate, part-time mother.” Talia's expression softened for the briefest moment as she regarded her son. Then she brushed his cheek and rose to her feet.

“He may stay here for now. But I want to renegotiate visiting rights.”

Bruce followed her out, their son in their middle and their voices fading fast down the many corridors. When Wayne came back, he was alone, and Tony stood at the window watching the MGB convertible speed off into the distance. “Somehow I feel like this isn't the last we've seen of her.” He was gripping the pewter windowsill so tight that his knuckles were starting to turn white. Bruce reached out and covered one of them.

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

+

That evening, their lovemaking had a rather self-conscious, almost hesitant character. After a prolonged time of awkward fumbling, Bruce stopped Tony's ministrations with a firm hand on his chest. “What's wrong?” Tony exhaled and leaned back on his heels. “I just... maybe we shouldn't tonight?” Wayne's eyes narrowed at the man looming above him. “Because of what happened earlier on?”

Stark cleared his throat and forced himself not to look at his fiancé's arousal. “No... yes, I mean... I don't really want to, like, trigger anything, and I'd be more than fine with cuddling or whatever.” At that, the Gothamite sat up. “I don't want your pity or sympathy or whatever it is that you're trying to convey here.” Tony bit his lip and shuffled within the sheets. By now, the last bit of sexual tension had left the room.

Bruce swung his legs off the mattress and got up. “Whatever. I have to get ready soon anyhow.” Everything about him screamed emotional detachment and repression. His lover watched him slip into a fresh pair of socks and underwear before he also rose from the bed. “Don't.” Unspoken questions played on Bruce's face as his motions slowed to a stop. Tony yanked his boxer briefs up and shook his head.

“Don't leave in a state like this. I never got to say goodbye to my parents, and I don't want...”  
He brushed a hand over his own, bare chest before it rested on his clavicle.  
“... I don't want us to part in anger, no matter what.”  
  
Wayne stood in the middle of his room, unmoving, for the longest time. In three long strides, he then crossed the distance over to where his fiancé stood, gnawing at his soul patch with a hurt and dejected expression. Bruce cupped his face in between his palms and crushed his mouth to Tony's. “I won't be long.” Dark-brown eyes reopened and took in the troubled countenance inches from his. “Doesn't matter. Just be careful.”

What followed was a nod. Tony put up a tentative smile. “And know that I'll be sleeping naked.” It earned him a low growl and a strong, almost painful squeeze to his butt. “I'll be quick.” Both ended up holding word; Bruce was back by 1:45 am, and they righted the previous blunder with an intense make-up sex session that made Alfred knock on the door at some point, concerned about the screams he had heard.

Panting and muffling the sounds against a damp chest, Tony giggled as Bruce fought for a steady voice.  
  
“Everything… is alright, Al... Alfred, thank you.”

+  
  
“What are you going to do for stag night?”  
Bruce looked up from the pad in his hands.   
“I do not plan on having one. Why?”

It was the final week before the wedding. While the billionaire was the epitome of composure, Tony began to feel anything from stressed to giddy to downright anxious. “Rhodey wants to hold mine in New York. A mini-stag-weekend to be exact.” Wayne's eyes wandered from Tony to the device in his hand and back. “I don't see why you shouldn't.” Tony thumbed his soul patch with a contemplative expression.

“But that means we don't get to see each other until the ceremony.”

At the very audible pout, Bruce put the tablet aside and stood up to take him in his arms. “All the more reason to look forward to laying my eyes on you at the altar.” Tony broke the kiss that followed with a skeptical curl of his lips. “Wayne Manor has an altar? That's downright creepy.” The Gothamite graced him with a deliberate simper. “We only use it for sacrificing virgins. You will be fine.”

The Wing Chun jab to his ribcage came out of the blue, yet Bruce managed to parry.

Tony huffed at him as they stood in a tender deadlock position.   
  
“Now you're overshooting the mark.”

 


	41. Chapter 41

Tony arrived at JFK airport at 10 am on Saturday. His two friends were already waiting for him at the gate. “T-minus 24 hours. Prepare to be blown away, man.” At Rhodey’s welcoming words and hug, Tony chuckled. “As long as you get me back to Gotham in one piece tomorrow, I’m down for whatever!” His stag party in New York started out with an Uber trip to the Carlton Hotel in Midtown East.

As it turned out, Rhodey and Happy had rented the so-called Speakeasy Suite. It held a private poker room, as well as a whiskey bar hidden behind a bookcase secret door. Tony laughed out loud in delight as he discovered the unique feature. “So gangster.” The three of them enjoyed a drink on the rocks to toast the groom-to-be before they headed out to Modern Pinball NYC, an arcade with more than 30 retro games.

They played anything, from Star Wars to Terminator 2, before Tony requested a shopping spree down Manhattan's finest stores. He pulled them into the Museum of Sex with its the adjacent store to roam the aisles filled with sex toys and bondage equipment. It did not take him long to wield a small basket filled with hot vanilla massage oil, a cock ring with 25 vibration modes, and several to-go satchels of lube.

Eyes shining with delight, Tony stopped at a display and held up a very small piece of fabric. “I am so buying this! Wedding night, here I come. And, dearest gents, I mean that quite literally.” Happy averted his eyes at the jockstrap made from black, shiny material, ears turning beet-red. Rhodey palmed his face with a groan.

“TMI, Tones. T. M. I.”

+

AWOL Bar & Grill, a hole-in-the-wall venue with an exorbitant list of bourbon and cocktails welcomed them with burgers and nachos with guacamole before they started to guzzle drinks from the list. At midnight, Rhodey and Happy then doused their friend with confetti and rainbow-colored streamers and belted out a crooked rendition of For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow, which other guests even joined in.

Giddy and more than just a bit tipsy, Tony then used a trip to the restrooms to call his fiancé. Bruce picked up on the second ring. “Tony. Something wrong?” Wayne sounded alert and also slightly worried to the trained ear. “Nooooooooooo... yes. Imissyou.” It prompted an audible exhale of breath that could pass for a sigh.  
  
“Aren't you having fun?”  
“Yesss, but...”  
“But what?”

“But I... neededtosayloveyou.”  
A pause on the other end. Bruce quietly cleared his throat.  
“…the feeling is mutual.”  
  
“Nahbutreally – Iloveyou. Sosomuch. IlovetheboysandAl.Andyou. Lotsyou.”  
“Same here. Please go and drink some water.”  
“Kay.”  
  
“And Tony...?”  
A hiccup.  
“Yea?”  
  
“Happy birthday.”

After they had hung up, Bruce Wayne kept on looking at the screen of his phone. A picture of Tony and the boys stared back at him, taken on the day at the theme park. The boys were sitting in two bumper cars, all of them throwing up victory signs. Richard was looking up to where Tony loomed behind them, balancing precariously between the two vehicles. He wore a wide and carefree laugh that lit up his whole countenance.

The billionaire brushed a gloved thumb over the little faces before he put the phone on flight mode and pulled the cowl over his head.

The massive engines of the Tumbler howled out through the night minutes later.  
  
+

On Sunday, at 11 o'clock sharp, a moderately hungover Tony Stark stood in his white, tailor-made tuxedo in the beautifully-decorated conservatory of Wayne Manor and waited. He and his friends had made use of the sumptuous breakfast and spa at their New Yorker hotel before it had been time to pack and get ready for the flight back. Happy had been wearing dark shades until Pepper picked them up at the airport.

When it was half an hour past the fixed time and Bruce still had not shown up, Tony and their small round of guests became antsy. “Maybe he got cold feet after all?” At Rhodey's whisper, Tony gritted his teeth. “He will show up.” He ignored the concerned glances from Pepper as well as the pensive one from Fox and took Alfred aside for a brief talk in private. “Something's wrong, he wouldn't – he would never do that.”

The butler looked as grave as the groom. “We have to assume something has happened.” Dark-brown eyes darted from him over to the boys who were craning their necks into their direction. “What do you mean?” Pennyworth looked stricken. “Master Wayne must have gone out.” All confused, Tony scrunched up his face. "I thought he didn't want to have a stag night?" Alfred regarded the little velvet box in his hands.

"I meant on a last-minute mission, Master Anthony."  
Tony inhaled sharply and forced his posture to remain calm.  
“When was the last time you saw him?”

The butler pocketed his precious cargo. “Yesterday at 9 pm. He told me to take the evening off after the young Sirs had been brought into bed, and to meet him today at the ceremony.” Tony frowned and bit down on his bottom lip. “Do you think he's been...” Watching his face grow paler, Alfred put a hand on his forearm. “Let us not speculate. For now, we tell the guests an important, out of town business appointment came up.”

+  
  
Bruce came to with a soft grunt. The first thing he saw was a rat with beady eyes several feet away. As soon as he began to move, the animal scurried away. Garbage smells invaded his nostrils and he noticed he was lying on a dirty, wet floor. He tried to crane his neck and shift upward, which caused a sharp twinge in his abdomen. Pressing a gloved hand against it made the pain flare up and he dropped his arm with a hiss.

His equilibrium failed him as he tried to get up, so he crawled and dragged himself out of the garbage pile before he passed out again. The next time he came to, he was still alone but there was the faint sound of an engine running in the distance. At the probability of it being a patrolling police car, Bruce shrunk back into the shadows. With great effort, he managed to prop himself up and cower behind two overspilling trashcans.

His vision started to blur and he felt lightheaded and nauseous from the foul stench and the searing pain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered footsteps coming his way. With shaking fingers, Bruce fumbled for his utility belt and a bat bomb to use in his defense. Before he could mobilize his final strength reserves to throw it, a familiar voice rang out.  
  
“Over here, Al!”  
  
The last thing he saw was Tony's horrified expression.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW picture of Tony's teeny tiny... wedding lingerie ;))  
> https://www.erogenos.com/mens-underwear/jockstraps/miami-jock-mje023-jockstrap-black
> 
> Official website of the Museum of Sex Store (likely NSFW, too)  
> http://www.mosexstore.com/


	42. Chapter 42

Once they had managed to wrestle the big, bulky armor into the backseat of the limousine, Alfred took the wheel and headed for the Manor. He drove slightly above the speeding limit, one eye in the rear-view mirror where Tony Stark crouched on his knees in front of his wounded lover. Despite Alfred's instructions, Tony needed several turns until he managed to relieve Bruce of the tight cowl over his face.

Throwing the mask down onto the floor, Tony crumpled his white tuxedo jacket into a makeshift pillow and eased it under the unconscious man's head. Wayne's hair was damp with sweat, and Tony brushed it aside to feel his forehead. “He's feeling clammy.” Alfred's gaze found his. “Elevate his feet.” Tony reached out to straighten his fiancé's heavy, booted legs until their heels rested upon the armrest of the door.

When one of his hands came away sticky and wet, his heart began to race. “Oh fuck, fuck... Al – we've got a problem here.” The butler glimpsed from his bloodied fingers back onto the winding road. “Keep pressure on the wound.” With gritted teeth, Tony searched for the exact location until he found an entry wound on Bruce's thigh, just above the kneecap. “Wish I knew how... goddamn hardshell plating!”

His eyes roamed over Bruce's armored torso and found another indention that was seeping dark crimson. “Shitshitshit, I got another one.” That time, Alfred was unable to take his eyes off the road. “Location?” Tony reached out to try and press a palm onto the carbon. “Lower abdominal section.” He adjusted his cramped position and licked dry lips. “I dunno, Al, maybe we need a hospital after all?”

Uncaring about his tuxedo turning all grimy and blood-stained, Tony kept a hold on to both spots with each of his hands. Pennyworth switched lanes. “I am going to have a look first. If I cannot get the bullets out, should they still be in there, we will call in help.” The Bentley then took a different road to the Manor than usual and ended up at the same waterfall Tony had been to before.

Instead of jumping through it, however, Alfred pressed a button on a small device in his pocket which mechanically extended a ramp for the vehicle to drive across and into the secret cave beneath. As soon as the engine had died down, the butler switched on the interior car lights and got out of his seat to inspect the status in the back. At the sight of his pale and unconscious protege, his eyes turned straight up analytic.

“Not the kind of festivities we had planned for today, Master Wayne.”  
  
Pennyworth checked Bruce's pulse and the location of his wounds. “No vital organs were hit. I will take care of it, but it requires a little preparation.” He then instructed Tony to take off the barbed gauntlets and went to rummage around in the cave. Tony did not take his eyes off of his fiancé until Alfred came back. There was a syringe with clear fluid in his hand. At Stark's apprehensive glance, the butler inclined his head.

“Ketamine. I need to remove the bullets without him waking up.” Alfred took a deep breath and removed his own jacket with a swift move. He wiped the pale skin inside the crook of Bruce's arm with a sterile smelling cotton pad. After administering the dose in one sitting, the butler put the syringe aside and dabbed at the area of the puncture again. He waited a few minutes, one hand on the pulse point of the billionaire's wrist.

Blue eyes then searched and found Tony's anxious gaze. “We need to get him over there.” Alfred pointed at a gurney. Tony nodded and stood up. “I'll take his upper body, you take his legs.” When the butler wanted to object, Stark shook his head. “No use in overexerting yourself.” Despite his bravado, Tony was wheezing after they had hauled the unconscious man onto the mobile stretcher.

As soon as they had wheeled the gurney under proper lighting, they removed the rest of the suit. Alfred disinfected his arms and hands and set to work. “Three rounds, but one merely grazed his shoulder.” When he put a small scalpel to Wayne's torso, Tony looked away and held onto Bruce's limp hand a little tighter. Every now and then, however, he would pass over tissues or instruments upon Alfred's instructions.

Even if Bruce remained out cold, his eyes moved behind closed lids and his breathing became uneven the longer the surgery went on. Tony never let go of his hand, no matter what. Once Alfred was done, the water inside the enamel bowl was pink. Both men disinfected their hands again. Tony swallowed. They had decided to keep Bruce down in the cave until it was clear he did not require further surgical assistance.

“Hey, can I... can I take first watch? Is that okay?”

His whisper in the semi-dark of the cave was met with a grave nod. “Certainly, Master Anthony. Call if you need anything. The cave can get to oneself.” Tony took a small transmitter the butler held out to him. Alfred then beckoned him over to fetch several thick blankets and a slim cushion out of a nearby, metal closet. “Not a word to the boys. At least not yet.” Pennyworth collected stray bandages and leftover wrappers.

“They will be told their father has been held up at the airport.”  
Tony bobbed his head, never taking his eyes off of his fiancé.  
“The best for now. I'll... think of something.”

“Certainly, Sir. In the meantime, let me get you appropriate, warm clothing.”

+  
  
It was almost four hours later when Wayne showed the first signs of stirrings. In an instant, Tony leaned forward and studied his pale countenance. A soft groan escaped Bruce's lips, and his right hand twitched. “Easy. I got you.” Stark reached out and ran a fingertip across the back of his hand with care. At the familiar baritone, Bruce swallowed. “T'ny?” His eyelids fluttered, and Tony leaned in closer. “Yes, BB, I'm here.”

Even if Wayne managed to open his eyes, they were glassy and unfocused. “W'dd'n?” Tony slipped his fingers into his cold palm and gave a careful squeeze. “Is postponed, nobody's mad. Except me. With worry.” Bruce's eyes slid shut again. “S'rry.” A bout of pain made him crinkle his brows and Tony unconsciously squeezed his hand. “Hush now, rest. I'm here. Sleep. Everything's gonna be alright. I love you.”

At that, Bruce's mouth, tight from clenching, went slack. His fiancé watched his head loll onto the gurney as he succumbed to a medicated slumber. Only then did Tony allow the worry he felt to creep through. Elbows on the gurney's rim, he put his face in between his palms and heaved a couple of shuddering breaths. He almost did not notice Alfred's arrival until the butler placed a gentle palm on his shoulder.  
  
“Master Anthony, you need to go and rest yourself.”

Stark blinked a few times and cast him a glimpse. His eyes were bloodshot. “What time is it?” “It is quarter to seven, Sir. You need to eat and get some rest.” Tony took a deep breath and rose to his feet. Exhaustion made him sway on the spot, even if he was quick to catch himself. “Not hungry. I just,” His eyes traveled down the mucked-up tuxedo underneath a lightweight, insulated jacket and caused him to swallow.

“Really need to shower. Badly.”  
  
Tony almost fell asleep in the shower twice. He somehow did manage to get clean and get out without cracking his head on the tiles after ten minutes. As soon as he was dressed in a comfortable and clean assemble of sweatpants and shirt, he devoured the two sandwiches that were waiting for him on his desk. After washing them down with half a gallon of soda, he went to look for the boys despite his bone-weary tiredness.

He found all of them in Richard's room, huddled on the large bed.  
“Tony! What happened!? Where is dad?!”  
They were about to jump to their feet, but Tony made a calming gesture and motioned for them to make space.

 


	43. Chapter 43

After he had scooted into their middle, legs outstretched and upper body resting against the headboard, Tony took a deep breath. “Your dad's been attacked on his way home.” Tony held up a hand as questions hailed down, each boy trying to outdo his brothers in volume and urgency. “All cake holes shut - I'll only say this once.” His deep voice, while not assertive, held a tone not to be argued with, and the boys fell silent.

In an instant, Tony's expression softened. “He was shot at, but his injuries have been taken care of and he is here now.” Three pairs of eyebrows twisted, furrowed, and Damian looked to be about to speak. That time, it was Richard who put a hand over his brother's mouth all the while still staring at Tony and waiting for him to continue. Stark nodded and rubbed his burning eyes with two fingers.

“So yeah, for now, it is really important that he gets enough rest to heal and be a hundred percent well again. The wedding will be...” He paused, thinking about the dilemma of not wanting to wait another year, and sighed in defeat. “... on a day that is not my birthday, but is gonna be just as amazing. Even more so. Promise.” The boys took the news in silence; faces twisted with worry, fright, and uncertainty. Tim tapped Tony's arm.

“We've made something for you, but...”  
Stark forced out a tired, but honest smile.  
“Show me.”

Richard and Tim scrambled off the bed and headed for the closet. At the sight of nearly a dozen crooked little cupcakes with wonky frosting spelling out Happy Birthday, including three cupcakes with exclamation marks, Tony's eyes started to fill up. He was quick to blink the excess liquid away and pulled the boys into a collective hug. “Exactly what I need. Let's eat them right now.”  
  
When Alfred walked into the room half an hour later, it was to an empty cupcake tray and four dark heads curled up on the bed, all of them fast asleep. With a loving expression, the butler took the tray away, pulled a huge comforter over the bodies, and switched off the small, football-shaped lamp on Richard's nightstand.

+  
  
The second time Bruce woke from his medically induced haze, his senses slowly returned one by one. He realized he was in his bedroom, wearing one of his pajamas and several bandages around his midriff and leg. His eyes flickered towards the curtains that were drawn shut, except for a small gap where daylight streamed in. Hushed voices from outside then caught his attention.

Minutes later, the door opened with a soft creak and just enough for a dark head to peek in. Tony smiled with love and relief before he pulled back and drew the door near shut again. Bruce was able to listen in on his instructions. “Okay, he is awake now. But! As we've agreed upon: No aggravating him, no loud voices, and no one, I repeat - no one - jumps on the bed. Yeah, I'm looking at you, buddy.” Muffled protests erupted.

“We aren't little children.”  
The whine was audible in Tim's voice.  
“You bawled the whole night.”  
  
At Damian's hissed sneer, a scuffle erupted.  
  
“You're lying!”

“Crybaby!”

“Boys...”

There was a rare, warning undertone in Tony's voice. It seemed to do the trick as the quarrel died down. Seconds later, a shy knock on the door made Bruce call his visitors in. Three dark heads lined up and glimpsed around the frame. “Hi, dad.” Richard and Tim looked at him with a mixture of anxiety and worry while Damian squinted at him with an almost dissecting stare. Bruce tried for a reassuring, steadfast nod.

“Come in. I hope you are not giving Tony and Alfred a hard time.”

Richard shook his head but Tim sniffled. “Damian does.” Said boy elbowed his back. “You liar!” He tried to push forward, but Tony grabbed him by the hood of his sweater and tugged him back. “Ah, ah, ah, what have I just told you?” His authoritative stance made the boy back off and he was able to release his hold. All of them came to stand around the huge bed, and Bruce motioned for Tony to help him prop his pillow up.

Upon seeing him grit his teeth at the jostling, Stark frowned. “You sure, BB?” A nod. Once he sat upright, Bruce eased back into the soft pillows. “Dad, who did this?” His eldest son cast helpless eyes all over his father's pale countenance and the unfamiliar experience of having to see him hurt. “It was a matter of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, Richard. The man was under a heavy influence of drugs.”

“I hate drugs!”  
  
At Tim's vigorous statement, Bruce Wayne's features softened. “Good. I never want any of you to think you need to try them out.” Three dark heads nodded back at him with sincerity. Tony who had watched Bruce's body language through keen eyes then put his arms left and right on Tim's and Richard's shoulders. “Your dad needs to rest some more for now, so why don't you guys see if you can help Alfred in the kitchen?”  
  
“Alfred doesn't want our help.” Damian's matter-of-fact statement made Tim snort. “No, he doesn't want yours because you always stuff your face and make a mess.” Stark spread his arms open wide and made a shooing gesture towards the exit, stopping the quarrel before it even started. “All of you – out now. I'll be checking your homework in half an hour, so try to get a head start and appear busy.”

As soon as the door had closed behind the boys, Tony's joyful facade crumbled. He walked back over to the bedside. “I told them you were involved in a mugging after returning late from one of your business trips.” At Bruce's frown, Tony tsked. “Spare me the bruised ego look, BB, what else was I supposed to say? Your dad is a regular, crazy-assed vigilante who does parkour high up on the city's rooftops at night?”

At his brazen description, Wayne's face shut down. “How did you find me?” A sigh. “We wouldn't if it wasn't for Al and his tracker...” Tony ran his hands through his hair and forced himself to stop talking and to stop thinking further along those lines. “Do I get to know what really happened?” Bruce shifted under the blanket. “Two junkies. One had a gun. They were so out of it, it's a wonder he knew how to use it.”

“Oh, he used it alright – Alfred took two bullets out of your body. Two!” Bruce' nose crinkled at the admonition in his voice. “Neither hit a vital organ.” At his dour reply, Tony threw his hands up in the air. “That's all you have to say? I mean, fuck, I... I thought you were dying on me last night, okay?! On my birthday! The day of our goddamn wedding, for fuck's sake!! You can't honestly expect me to shrug this off just like that!”

He made a snapping motion with his fingers and glared at Wayne.  
  
Silence.  
  
“Does that mean you don't want us to get married anymore?”  
  
In seconds, a multitude of emotions flashed over Tony's features until nothing but incredulity persisted. “Are you... are you friggin nuts? Of course I want to marry your bullet-riddled body as long as it's able to say yes!” Despite the wording, Tony's voice was far from being joking. Bruce's thin lips disappeared for a second. “You knew what you were getting into.” Stark folded his arms over his chest with a mirthless laugh.

“Not really, no. I didn't know you'd go and play living human target in black rubber. Looks like your gear badly needs an update, sweetheart.” Mumbling to himself, Wayne reached for the water on his nightstand. “Don't let Lucius hear that.” The motion made him hiss, and he grudgingly had to accept Tony to hand him the glass. “You bet your sweet, banged-up behind I am going to let him hear that. Maybe even right now!”

Before he could storm away, ready to set his plan into motion, Bruce grabbed his wrist, albeit with another, considerable wince. “Wait.” Tony stopped and watched him lean back into the pillows. “I want you to get your present.” Stark's mouth formed an O of surprise. “We aren't married yet.” Bruce took a careful sip and looked down into the clear liquid. “Consider it a simple, belated birthday gift then.”  
  
He handed the glass back. Once Tony had put it on the nightstand again, he brushed his fiancé's stubbly cheek. “I can wait for you to give it to me on our actual wedding day. Whenever that is. Provided it doesn't have a short shelf life or something.” The smile that tried to make it past Wayne's usual brittle facial range was laced with fond exasperation. “No, but it's unlikely you won't stumble upon it during the next few days.”

The squeal Tony Stark gave upon discovering the bright white Audi R8 Spyder convertible down in the garage, wrapped with a huge red bow around its hood did not make it all the way up to Bruce's room, but the revving of the engine did as Tony took the sports car out for a spin.

No homework was corrected that day.

All of the boys were allowed to ride shotgun instead as their nanny floored it from the main gates over to the junction down the road and back. It was an impromptu lesson in physics, Tony later said, when Alfred stood in the doorway of the main entrance and bestowed his best disciplinary butler expression on them upon their return.

“... yeah, so... as I said: Acceleration is the change in velocity, divided by time. Make a note, boys."

 


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some info dump and silly ramblings at the end

As it turned out, Bruce Wayne was an even worse patient than Tony Stark, post-appendicitis. By the second day, he was constantly cranky and trying to sneak out of bed until his fiancé threatened to chain him, in a completely non-sexual way.

“Don't be ridiculous. I want to get up.”  
“No. You stay right where you are.”  
“You are not my father.”

“Do you want me to call Alfred?”  
A dark, seething glare, followed by a pout.  
“At least bring in some portable TV.”  
  
“Nope.”  
“Listen up, Tony, I...”  
“... lost an inhuman amount of blood so I'll just lay here and play nice.' Wasn't that what you wanted to say?”

“No, goddammit!”

“Change the record, sweetheart. That one's not gonna get you a good rep with the audience, aka – me. Also, that's $5 into the swear jar for you. I'll take it from your wallet seeing you're, well... you're not going anywhere.” For a few heartbeats, Wayne sat and fretted in a way that would have made most people uneasy. The sight of his scowl underneath a three-day beard growth, and mussed hair, however, made Tony coo.

"Don't give me that brooding, slash kicked puppy look, BB. It's an endearing sight but it's not gonna change a thing."  
The Gothamite's mouth twisted into a lopsided grimace.  
“Would it be possible to get some sort of access to my emails at least? I need to write Lucius that I am held hostage.”

With his best, indulgent smile on display, Tony leaned in and ruffled his hair further. “See, it only needed two and a half bullets and a 1.5 mg shot of Ketamine to bring out the funny side in you.” Bruce glowered at him until he left the room and returned with a tablet computer. Before he handed it over, Tony raised his eyebrows. “Just for half an hour, then I am going to bring you some lunch. Any wishes?”

Bruce gave an absentminded shake of the head, focused on getting the device into his hands. Five seconds later, he was immersed in whatever was on screen. Stark tapped a finger against his goatee with an evil grin. “Beef liver with lots of spinach and greens it is, then. Gotta put back some of that red juice into your bod.” Wayne's mouth curled in still absentminded, but nevertheless true disgust.

“Ew, crap.”

By the end of day three, Bruce had his very own swear jar in his bedroom, already stuffed to the brim with bills. Despite that fact, an unusual bout of cheekiness surrounded him on day four, causing Tony to instantly smell a rat. “What are you grinning at?” Wayne's bearded mouth curled. “All the excess time I had to let go to waste at least got me to find out some of your dark secrets.”

Tony Stark froze in the middle of the room, a mug of hot chocolate in his hand and a look of barely repressed panic on his face.

“Uh... w—what?”  
Bruce looked up from the tablet in his lap with a challenging glint in his eyes.  
“Your middle name is Edward?”

Tony put the mug aside and his arms akimbo with a thoroughly indignant exhale of breath. “Yeah, so what, Mister? Don't you have anything better to do than spying on me?” He got an obstinate expression and a small tilt of a head in return. “Not at the moment, no.” Hazel eyes went back to the screen. Seconds later, they narrowed. “Also, you cheated about your age and made yourself three years younger.”  
  
In a quick move, the tablet PC got swept from his grip.  
It prompted a frown in between Wayne's brows that his fiancé met with a Cheshire grin.  
“This means prenup, amirite?”  
  
Bruce Wayne threw him a pointed look.  
Tony nodded to himself and drummed his fingers on the tablet.  
“Prenup.”

+  
  
On a bright and, for once, cloud-free day in Gotham City, two men stood side by side at the entrance of Wayne Manor's conservatory.

It was August 17th, upon Tony's explicit wish. He had reasoned since his birthday was the 29th May 1970, the sum of his birth date would make an excellent second choice for a wedding day. Bruce had not argued, seeing it granted him sufficient time to regain full health and mobility. On top of that, Alfred had been very much in favor of an additional six weeks to plan and organize their second attempt.

To compensate for their guest's troubles and expenses, they had decided to let all of them reside at Wayne Manor. The huge premises were more than suitable for hosting overnight guests, and staff had been busy cleaning the Manor from roof to ground floor for the past two weeks. The Gordon family, Lucius Fox, Pepper and Happy Hogan, as well as James Rhodes and Carol Danvers had been invited, just as Jason Todd.

True to fashion, the latter had announced his presence via typing 'OK' into the group chat with his brothers.

“Genius-Billionaire-Wedding of the Century, take two. Lights, camera - everyone ready and in position.”

At the fidgety bounce to his right, Bruce's cast his soon-to-be husband an amused glance. “Never thought I'd see the day where Anthony Edward Stark actually is nervous.” Dressed in a brand-new, ivory-colored tuxedo tailored to measure, Tony blew out his cheeks. “Haha. Shut up, Mister No-Middle-Name.” His face twisted two seconds later. “... Hey, do we have one of those little paper bags to breathe into?”

Bruce negated. “Think you can still do this?” Stark exhaled against a nervous bout and nodded. Their fingers found each other and held on tight.

“.... aaand action.”

Half an hour later, they kissed to the applause of their guests underneath a green canopy of olive trees and other Mediterranean plants. Both grooms slipped identical slim rings made from brushed platinum upon each other's fingers, with the only exception of Tony's ring featuring a single diamond.

The wedding party took place in the adjacent grand ballroom where the married couple took a seat at a long head table together with their family, while their guests were seated around them at banquet-style roundtables. There was no gift table because the grooms had requested donations for the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation instead of presents, to support charitable projects and activities all over Gotham.

Next to the grooms' table, a huge cake stood waiting in all of its multi-tier glory. It had been modeled after the silhouette of Wayne Tower, made from dark and silvery-colored chocolate with a lot of details like the logo and the many windows, and featured two miniature grooms made from marzipan on top.

The black-dressed groom was taller and wore a pair of dark shades while the groom dressed in white wore a distinctive goatee and was holding up a sign that read 'Stark Married'. “Why sunglasses?” Puzzlement was written all over Wayne's face as they stood and posed for the obligatory cake-cutting pictures. Tony slightly craned his neck to look up at him. “It's meant to be a compromise between your other two... egos.”  
  
With that, Tony made use of his husband's bout of stupefaction, put his hand atop Bruce's on the knife, and sliced through layers of chocolate.  
  
“Smile, BB.”  
  
(Pepper Hogan was, in fact, the only one who managed to snap a picture of that exact glorious, little moment and perfectly captured the honest confusion with which Bruce looked at Tony. It would become one of Tony's favorite wedding photos. “It looks like I just told you I never signed that prenup. “... Don't be silly.”)

The first speech of the evening belonged to the man sitting next to Bruce Wayne. Alfred Pennyworth spoke with his usual dignified timbre, spun in a few semi-embarrassing tales about Bruce's youth (upon Tony's explicit wish) and ended with a declaration of love for his protege and the newest addition to the family. Next up, the boys took turns in reciting a poem they had rehearsed; displaying different cases of stage fright.

 _When Tony came to town, all dad did was frown._  
_He took along the Lambo and drove it like he's Rambo._  
_Dad didn't want to keep him 'round, but we did and look at us now._  
  
_Tony and dad are gonna get married – we still wait for him to be carried_  
_Over the threshold of the Manor, cause dad's mighty strong..._  
_… and Tony's never, ever wrong!_  
  
Applause and laughter filled the ballroom. The two grooms who had risen from their chairs while clapping looked at each other. “Why do I have the feeling you have got something to do with this?” Bruce's eyes narrowed at the mischievous look of his husband. “I don't.” The Gothamite held his gaze for the longest time. Eventually, Tony inclined his head and scratched at his goatee. “I might have helped out with the final verse.”

Jason's speech was of the brief, but poignant kind. “Bruce and I have a special relationship. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him, and likewise, there's nothing he wouldn't do for me. In fact, we spent most of our time doing nothing for each other.” Another hearty ripple of laughter went through the ballroom, Tony being among the ones who laughed the hardest while Bruce pulled a face that spoke volumes.

After all speeches were over, the grooms opened the dance floor to a groovy swing number by James Ray called 'I've got my mind set on you'.

It set the tone for the rest of the night as Tony soon was goofing around with Rhodey while a smitten Damian tried to dance like a grown-up with Pepper Hogan despite their sizable difference in height. Everybody then stopped what they were doing when Tim performed on the drums while the live band took a break, and Alfred surprised them all by joining him on the trumpet in an impromptu jam session.

Later that evening, Jason, Carol Danvers, and Happy Hogan were playing some sort of drinking game, while Jim Gordon and his wife watched on, either playing judges or making bets. The music had switched to a romantic notion, and to the sounds of 'When I Need You', many pairs swayed across the dance floor. “Richard...” Bruce glowered over to where his son and Barbara Gordon were dancing too tight for his taste.

The teens looked at the stern, raised finger of the billionaire before another voice cut in. “Ah, shush, don't listen to him.” Richard and Barbara broke into a mutual grin when Bruce Wayne turned around and they saw him being swamped by his newly-wedded husband. The latter winked at the young couple and purposely grabbed Bruce's behind tight. Hazel eyes narrowed in on his audacity. Tony just wiggled his eyebrows.

“Honey, as long as I am living under your roof, you'll do as I say.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB on the wedding date: The idea behind it is that: 2+9+5 = 17 and: 1+9+7=17 = 1+7 = 8.  
> (I always was bad at math but I hope Tony forgives me my stupidity ;)
> 
> The wedding cake would look like the Chicago Board of Trade building from the Batman Begins movie:  
> http://static.panoramio.com/photos/large/15883693.jpg
> 
> If this was a TV series (or even a movie), this chapter would make a perfect ending (and one that I had originally planned for, before this verse hijacked my mind and soul) In any case, there would be outtakes and bloopers over the sound of this funny and catchy remix Tony and Bruce dance to, which can be listened to here: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xj9r8xyDLFo  
> (of course, Tony picked this song for his wedding dance, because he feels the lyrics are So. Them. Lol)
> 
> Speaking of bloopers - there would be goodies like RDJ having his adorable giggling fits on set, or him goofing around with the boys' actors (who would be good choices to play the Batkids? I have no idea!) And of course I imagine RDJ and Bale breaking out in snorting laughter as they mess up yet another kissing scene... 
> 
> Speaking of Bale, I know he can be quite intense and serious, but this dude is also immensely funny when being allowed to, so I see him manhandling the Lambo's manual transmission only to flash the camera a contrite smirk. Or him and Chris Evans doing some behind-the-scenes choreography of their (off-screen in this fic) wedding fight sequence to the tune of Tom Jones. 
> 
> (in my warped wannabe director's mind, it would be a split screen take with RDJ and Paltrow dancing on the one side, and the fight scene on the other - yes, that should be a thing and I am super weird)
> 
> Okay, enough obsessing over fictional characters and the actors who play them IRL, I'll shut up now and accept my protagonists' actors are happily-married, heterosexual men. This fic is just that, fiction. 
> 
> ETA: This chapter might be a good 'stopping point' to end this story on the fluffy note it actually deserves. Anyone reading on please be aware things are about to get a lot more angsty and dramatic even if the tags don't give it away.
> 
> I wanna finish these rambled endnotes with a massive THANK YOU to all of you readers, commentators, subscribers, kudo-givers, and lurkers - you have made this story a real pleasure to work on!!!


	45. Chapter 45

“Where did you put my sunscreen?”  
  
Lounging on a recliner on the private beach area of the Sandals Royal Bahamian Resort, Tony lowered his sunglasses to peek over their rim. “I haven't even seen your sunscreen. You probably didn't pack any. Take mine.” The broad physique of his husband covered the sun for a split second. “I am certain Alfred packed it for me.” Bruce then squatted down to dig into the large beach bag at Tony's feet.

The latter sighed and pushed his shades all the way back up. “Stop making a fuss and just take mine.” All skeptical, Wayne inspected the bottle in question, only to throw it back into the bag with a huff. “Yours is 15 SPF. I am going to burn in no time.” Tony crossed his arms behind his head with an air of gratification. “It's not my fault I have skin like a Greek god while you are more of a Celtic warrior.”

A towel from the beach bag landed square on his stomach. “Get up and help me search.” Grumbling, Tony flung the towel back at Bruce's head and missed spectacularly. “Nah, I'm chillin like a villain here.... oh, dang, am I allowed to say that? It is a justice household after all.” Bruce straightened up to his full height, arms akimbo. “Mister Stark!” A Cheshire grin full of love and cheekiness shone back at him.

“Stark-Wayne. It's Mister Stark-Wayne now. Please update your contact list.”

Bruce paid no more attention to the pelting sun on his back as he grabbed his husband around the waist, threw him over his shoulder, and dunked both of them into the nearby crystal clear ocean with a mighty splash. He had to listen to Tony complaining about his vintage pair of Cartier sunglasses getting wet for the rest of the afternoon until Bruce found a distraction suitable enough to shut him up.

“I want you to legally adopt the boys.”  
  
Tony hummed; affectionate but not fully-present after their latest, intense round of impulsive coupling. “You know what that means for Talia.” Bruce nodded, already back to being analytical and effectively clearing up the traces of sex before their VIP room service would get an eyeful. “Yes. She will no longer have any rights or responsibilities for Damian.” At that, his naked husband propped himself up on his elbows.

“She will never agree to that.”

Incredulity swung within Tony's words. Wayne reached for the box of tissues that rested on his side of the hotel bed and held it out for him to take some. “It is still possible to complete an adoption without her consent.” A lopsided smirk as Stark began to wipe down his lower body. “Ahh, you wouldn't want bad blood with her. She seems a little,” Tony made a spinning gesture with his index finger next to his temple. “Cray-cray.”

With a deft move, his husband snatched the sodden tissues from his hand and got up.

“Leave that to me.”  
  
+

Two weeks later, a moderately sunburned Bruce Wayne and his darkly-tanned husband returned to Gotham City. In their absence, Alfred had managed to keep track of the boys' schedules as well as of the nightly activities on the streets, courtesy of a listening device connected to the police radio system. Much to Bruce's relief, no bigger incidents had taken place during their honeymoon.

Monday morning at 8:15 sharp, he entered his Manor's office to find a huge brown envelope on his desk, its sender address displaying a lawyer's company. The postal stamp indicated an international air mail cargo. He flipped the lid open and pulled out a thick folder with a letter on top.

_Revocation of Consent for Adoption_

_Adoption is meant to create a permanent, stable home for a child. A validly executed relinquishment and consent to adopt is intended to be final and irrevocable. As a result of_ _our consultation with Miss Al-Ghul_ _, her consent has been revoked prior to the entry of the final adoption decree under the following circumstance (s):_

_Consent was obtained by fraud, duress, or coercion._

Bruce exhaled through his mouth and shoved the papers back inside. Not today. He reached for his car keys and went outside to find his husband all ready and dressed. Tony was just straightening out his casual business jacket when he noticed him step down the stairs. “This is so romantic, y'know, us driving to work together in the morning.” At the cooing voice, Bruce was quick to tamper with the frown on his face.

“If you dare so much as getting yourself another speeding ticket, I will personally confiscate the keys and your license.”

They skipped down the stairs and headed over to where their means of transportation already stood waiting. In no time, the Audi R8 howled out loud twice in a competitive manner. “You know you'll lose any drag race against me, BB. Admit it.” Wayne's brows furrowed as he slipped into the seat and flexed his fingers around the steering wheel of his Lamborghini. “Not when the sun has gone down.”

At his low growl, Tony pursed his lips and wiggled his brows. “Naughty. Too bad you can't floor the Batmo... Tumbler out in broad daylight.” Face all stoic, the billionaire then put his foot down and surged ahead with a mighty roar of the engine. Through the open window he heard an indignant “HEY!” followed by loud revving and an even louder “WOOHOO!” before the white Audi appeared next to his dark Aventador.

Tony drove with the top down and his Ray-Ban's on and cast his husband a wide, crazy grin.  
“Loser pays for lunch!”  
Alfred, who was just out collecting the mail, saw the two sports cars chasing each other down the driveway.  
  
“Too much testosterone in this household.”

+

“Ah, Tony, you're looking great. Marriage agrees with you.”

“Marriage and a 10-days-trip to the Bahamas, Lou.”

“I believe you had a great time?”

“We did. The best. All that splendid food, I tell ya. It's a wonder I still fit into my clothes.”

“As long as Mister Wayne can say the same, there is no reason to worry.”

“Speaking of fitting clothes, Lou, time to talk shop. My hubby's out there in his bullet-hole-prone suit and I want -no, need- him to be extra safe.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning you and I get to work on a few upgrades for that suit of his.”

“Does... Bruce know?”

“Nope. The only thing he knows is that you and I are going to revive his green energy program.”

“I assume you are talking about the fusion reactor project.”

“Yup. Which is soon going to be called the ARC reactor project. Clean, unlimited energy for over a lifetime.”

“ARC?”

“Affordable, Robust, Compact reactor. I think it's kinda catchy, even if I haven't been able to really think the whole thing through at this point.” The older man watched him tap his chin. “Why don't you do that over there while I go and see what we can do about your... wardrobe requirements?” All smiles, Fox pointed towards the end of the aisle at a high-tech looking workplace surrounded by glass panels.

A shiny brass sign was adorning the front, reading _'Tony Stark-Wayne, Head of R &D'_. Large brown eyes lit up like a beacon.  
“Swell!”  
They walked towards the high-tech office when Tony put a hand on Fox's arm.  
  
“But I gotta leave at 12 today. I'm invited to lunch, you see.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honeymoon destination:  
> http://www.sandals.com/main/bahamian/ba-home/
> 
> Tony's sunglasses:  
> https://www.vintage-sunglasses-shop.com/eyewear/11822/cartier-vendome-santos-customized-small


	46. Chapter 46

"Come on in."  
  
Lucius Fox did as he was told and closed the massive wooden office door behind him. "Bruce. You wanted to speak to me before the meeting?" The billionaire rose from his chair to shake his business partner's hand. "Yes. I want you to actively start purchasing LexCorp stock on the open market." Fox's gray eyebrows rose. "A hostile takeover?" Wayne sat back down in his chair and put both hands on the desk.

"If push comes to shove, yes. They know our previous tender offer was meant to see where, or if, we can find common ground, but--" He left the rest of his sentence in the open, but Lucius Fox understood by the wry smirk hovering around Bruce's lips. "I'm sure you already know Luthor has started sandbagging like he suspects ulterior motives on our part." Bruce reached up with his right to adjust his glasses.

"Transferring his reserves or stripping his assets are not on the official agenda. Yet." He then leaned back and splayed the fingers on his left wide on the mahogany surface, looking from his shining wedding band over to the two framed pictures standing on his desk.

One was a black and white photograph of the boys in landscape format. They were lying next to each other on the floor of the Manor's parlor in front of the fireplace, heads propped up in their hands, elbows digging into a crème-colored rug, grinning into the camera. It was an older pic, judging by the huge tooth gap in Damian's upper row of baby teeth, Richard's too long hair, and Tim's bracket-y smile.

The other picture was a portrait format, and far more recent. It showed Bruce and Tony on their wedding day, outside of the imposing Manor for their official wedding picture photo shoot. They were standing underneath a vine-clad archway, holding each other close instead of facing the camera. Tony had an impish grin on his face and his bejeweled left hand on Bruce's chest while his husband smirked back at him.

Bruce then blinked up and at the kind countenance of his friend and partner. "In any case, there needs to be a change in the board of directors and senior management. I'm not trusting anyone who has worked with Lex for longer than six months." Fox hummed his agreement. "So we'll proceed as planned." It was Wayne's turn to nod. "If the board cooperates, we can conduct an extensive due diligence. If not..."

"... you just go in as a black knight* and fix things."  
That time, the shark-like smirk on Bruce Wayne's face was there, and very real.  
"Now, that would be hitting home a little too close there, wouldn't it, Lucius?"

+

“... and that is why we can expect there will be changes that might impact the terms of our initial indicative offer. The due diligence process is still far from being completed.” A certain silence set in. It eventually prompted two hazel eyes to fly up from where they had been focused on the dark screen of his mobile device.

“Ah, yes.”  
  
The senior manager for business development fought hard not to let his disappointment show.  
“We will send you the latest figures and an NBO draft via email in the next two hours.”  
Bruce pocketed his phone and managed to return a halfway honest smile.  
  
“Thank you, I appreciate it. Please keep me updated on your process.”

As soon as the meeting was over, the billionaire managed to extract himself from further conversations regarding the current M&A project. It was not that Bruce was not keen on making it happen; matter of fact it was going to become one of the best deals in the recent history of Wayne Enterprises, should it get official.

His assistant caught up with him, wanting to collect his signatures for dozens of congratulation letters to his marriage. She also wanted to go over the changes to his marital status and the documents that needed to be updated with him, but he put her off until the afternoon with a charming smile and escaped from his office. When the elevator doors closed behind him, Bruce allowed himself to blow out his cheeks.

Once the display read -1, the doors opened. His leather shoes made soft sounds on concrete floors as he walked through the basement of his company, headed for the central corridor and the illuminated glass cube office at the very end. Even from afar, Bruce saw there was a whole army of stickers adorning most of the once sleek glass panels. As he got closer, he got a good look at their individual messages.

One of them read 'SCIENCE – cause it works, bitches!' another one stated 'Y'all Need Science', while a huge black sticker with bold white lettering said 'got science?' While the billionaire stood and frowned a logo from a well-known computer company -a circle around text which read 'genius inside'- a warm voice shook him out of his thoughts.

“BB!”

Wayne looked through the slivers of glass and was greeted by a huge enamored smile all over Tony's face. Quick to enter, Bruce got an earful of some classic rock music which got switched off in an instant. “Less than three weeks and you've already made yourself at home.” A tiny smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he inspected the huge Wayne Enterprises logo sticker which adorned the back of the mainframe.

His gaze then flickered over to where one of Tony's many monitors displayed a desktop background picture Bruce recognized as one of their wedding pictures, albeit a rather odd one. It showed the Lamborghini Aventador and the Audi R8 side by side in the gravel driveway, each car's rear adorned by a string of cans and a sign reading 'Just Married'.

“Not a home if you ain't around 24/7.”

With that, Tony stepped around the computer. A pair of safety welding goggles sat atop his head, and he wore slim-fitted ripped jeans, white sneakers, and a blue hoodie under an unbuttoned lab coat. Wayne softly shook his head with a smile before he reached out for the coat lapels to pull his husband close and nab a hearty kiss. “I'm only a few floors above, yet I haven't seen or heard from you the whole day.”

It was said without malice or recrimination. Still, Tony looked alarmed. "Oh, did I...” he fished for his phone from the coat pocket and scrolled through it. “Richie's still taking driving lessons, and Tim doesn't have swimming practice until next month... or wait, did I forget Dami's fencing? Thought that wasn't until...” Bruce interrupted his actions by cupping his hand, thus trapping the phone in between their palms.

“You didn't. I just came to see how you are doing and if you have already eaten.”

Stark sighed with a slump of his shoulders and pocketed his phone again. “Aw, don't give me such a scare. But food sounds great! I haven't eaten anything apart from,” he looked over his shoulder and Bruce spotted an empty box of Twinkies. Tony's face twisted with sheer disgust. “I think me and Twinkies need a break from each other for a while.” His billionaire cocked an eyebrow and took his hand away to check his watch.

“Let's head out for lunch then. The salad bar at Fox Gardens is good.”

“Now wait a sec, that doesn't mean I'm all for rabbit food.”

“McDonald's is not an option.”

“Meh.”

Bruce grinned and inspected a hologram that flickered upon a 3D-modeling table. “What's that?” Tony followed his pointed finger. “Oh, that... I...” He cleared his throat and slipped off his goggles, leaving his hair to stick up in all directions. “How would you feel about a science expo held at the Gotham World Fairgrounds?” Wayne raised an eyebrow. “These old, run-down premises? How did you stumble across those?”

Stark threw the goggles on a nearby shelf and rocked back and forth on his toes. “Well, we gotta find a suitable location for the ARC reactor's main center, and I thought to myself – what better way than to embed it in a huge, all-year-round science fair?” His husband looked at him, a doubtful expression on his face. “A year-round fair? That's going to be a costly and, moreover, work-intensive endeavor.”

Tony slipped out of his lab coat and threw it over his swivel chair in the corner. “No, but think about it, BB. Many exhibitors from all over the world will get to know Wayne Expo as the leading fair for technological innovation and marvel!” Bruce regarded the hologram for the longest time, hands in the pockets of his pants. “It is your project and your inventions. Under one condition, though. It should be named Stark Expo.”

At that, Tony scooted closer. “I love it when you're all altruistic and philanthropic. It makes me want to sleep with you. On the spot.” Bruce warded off nimble fingers heading straight for the front of his dress pants. “I'm pretty sure Lucius would not approve. At least 30 percent of your office is still see-through.” He reached up to try and smother some of Tony's wild locks down with one palm. It got him a purring sound.

“Means I just need more stickers.”  
A gentle flick against one of Tony's earlobes.  
“Means you wait until later. Fox Gardens. Reservations for 12:30.”

Tony's purr turned into a pout even as he took the outstretched hand.

“Okay, rabbit food first, then rabbit sex.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wedding picture on Bruce's desk inspired by this:  
> https://equallywed.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/neil-patrick-harris-david-burtka-wedding-italy-gay-celebrities.jpg
> 
> * black knight = an unwelcome takeover bidder (source: Wikipedia)
> 
> The Gotham World Fairgrounds are mentioned in the animated series Batman: Mask of the Phantasm:  
> http://evil.wikia.com/wiki/Gotham_World_Fairgrounds
> 
> Fox Gardens is a restaurant mentioned in Shadow of the Batman Vol 1 #3 / 'The Deadshot Ricochet!'


	47. Chapter 47

It was 8 pm when the old Buick LeSabre rolled up on the Hillsdale observation deck.

“Are you sure your parents don't mind?” Richard watched Barbara put the car into parking mode. She nodded and unbuckled. “Pretty sure. Dad's got the late shift tonight, and Mom and Jimmy are over at the Jackson's for dinner.” After she had turned up the radio she beamed at him. “We've got another half an hour at least.” He then extended his arm and she snuggled into him, mindful of the middle console.

For a while, they sat and listened to music while he ran his fingers along her arm and she reached for his other hand to intertwine their fingers. At some point, however, Barbara then sat up a little straighter and squinted across the windshield. “Hey wow, look at that.” From where Richard had gazed into the sky and at the clouds which were drifting past, he grumbled as Barbara elbowed him. “... isn't that your dad's car?”

Richard blinked and followed her pointed finger over to a white Audi R8 came to a halt and switched off its lights.  
Its license plate read 'Stark-Wayne 101'.  
“Oh my God.”

For a while, they waited with, in Richard's case, baited breath for something to happen. When no one got out, Barbara pushed out her chin. "C'mon. Let's say hi." Aghast, Richard stared at her. "What?! No!" He tried to withdraw from his girlfriend's relentless pull as she got out. “No, I don't want that, egads, Babs, no! C'mon – imagine if it were your parents!” She stopped in her tracks, a look of disgust on her freckled features.

“Eww, why did you have to say that?” She nevertheless continued to drag him along. “Besides, your dads are super cute together.” The Wayne heir pulled a face. “I know you had a crush on Tony back in the days, stop pretending.” When they came closer, they saw the windows were already about to fog over, the driver's seat was empty, and a dark heap moved on the passenger side. Richard visibly tried to balk one last time.

“No, Babs, come on, what if they find out we're...”

It was then that Bruce Wayne peeked around the solid physique of his lover.  
He was without glasses and his expression turned downright sinister.  
Richard rolled his eyes skyward in defeat.

“... here.”  
  
The passenger window of the R8 then came down with an inaudible, electric whirr.  
“Richard John Grayson-Wayne.”  
The boy in question winced at every slicing syllable.  
  
“Hi, dad. Hi, Tony.”

The latter brushed a hand over his mouth and twisted around from where he sat straddling his husband's lap. “Richie and my favorite Babs. Hi, pumpkin.” Barbara broke into a smitten grin and stepped out from where she had sought shelter behind Richard's back. “Hi, Tony. Hello, Mister Wayne.” Before the awkwardness became too big, Bruce's stern voice cut through the silence with its chirping crickets. “What are you doing here?”

His son swallowed and tried to look at something else apart from his father's slightly disheveled hair and his shirt where several buttons were already undone. “Nothing." It came out more of a squeak. "J-just passing through.” Wayne Sr. pointed a finger at the Buick and over into the direction of the Manor. “Exactly.” As soon as the two teens were headed back for their car, Tony resumed his ministrations or at least tried to.

“Can we go back to that point where I was about to figure out how to mount you given the cramped confines?” Still unresponsive, Bruce glared over at the Buick that was about to back up. “He is growing up faster than I thought.” Tony followed his gaze. When he turned back around, he wore an impish expression. “Oh, come on, sourpuss, hey. You look like you're obsessing about Richie impregnating Babs in the backseat.”

If it had not been before, the mood was definitely ruined after that. Wayne's face flushed, but not from arousal. “I have been delaying the... talk with Richard for the longest time.” Tony patted his thigh before he ran an index finger along the inviting, open V of Bruce's button-down shirt. “Ah, no need for that. See, I know how emotional stuff makes you go all 'blergh' and such. Therefore, I took care of it. Neat, eh? You're welcome.” 

"How? When?"  
Still focused on the alluring strip of skin that followed down Bruce's throat, Tony hummed.  
"Oh, you know, a Friday night, two dudes, some pizza, nothing interesting on TV..."

Strong hands grasped his, effectively stopping his caressing moves. “I swear to God, if you exposed Richard to porn, I will...” At the Batman-worthy scowl, Tony rolled his eyes, vivid libido forgotten for the moment. “No! Geez, will you – your nostrils are flaring, sheesh! Will you stop glowering at me?” A stare-down erupted. Wayne then exhaled. “Good. For a second I thought...” That was when Tony raised a finger, pensive.

“We're talking vids here, right? Cause, I mean, print is basically not considered porn but... infomercials, no?”  
  
The sinister thundercloud above Bruce's head began to rapidly grow in size.  
It prompted Tony to reach for the door, thrust it open and jump out.  
Wayne's monosyllabic command, though sotto voce, was clearly audible.

“... run.”

And so Tony did, all the way downhill, coating his finest Gucci sneakers in dust.  
He still managed to give a jaunty wave passing by the flabbergasted teens.  
“Be home in ten, Rich. Bye, pumpkin.”  
  
+  
  
A dark head poked around the corner of the door to Bruce's home office the other morning, hesitant.  
“Eh, you... wanted to see me?”  
A nod.  
  
“Come in, there is something you need to sign.”

“Uhh...”  
The Gothamite almost rolled his eyes. Almost.  
“No NDA or divorce papers.”

His husband slipped inside, clicked the door shut with his back but remained standing where he was, smirk laced with underlying concern. “You keep saying that. Did I mention my Guccis are beyond saving since last night?” Wayne did not bother gracing him with another glance and instead sifted through the paperwork on his desk again. “Five times, actually. Buy a new pair, and, for the love of God, do not speak about it again.”

“About my sneakers?”  
Now Bruce raised his head, eyes ablaze.  
“About last night!”

At the sight of a twitching muscle in his cheek, Tony palmed his chin and nodded along. “You should pay for them, yanno, seeing you made me run through the wilderness on foot and all that.” The Gothamite's forehead crinkled. “It was an easy-accessible trail path for tourists.” Tony made displeased tutting sounds. “Made from gravel, sticks, and stones. And you know that sticks and stones break Gucci's bones and such.”

Bruce fingered his temples and mumbled something to himself before he pressed a button on the nearby intercom. “Alfred? Please go and order another pair of Tony's shoes. Yes, the ones that... yes, those. Thank you.” He released the button and arched an eyebrow over to where his husband stood. “Happy now?” Tony pushed himself off of the door and walked over to where his husband sat.

“Getting there. Now, what is it you wanted to show me?” Bruce shoved a batch of papers his way, pointing at the subject on the first page. “Just a few signatures to make this official once and for all.” Quick to skim across the text, dark-brown eyes widened as their owner gave a small whistle through closed teeth. “How did you do that? Thought she'd rather shave her head and ride backward on a goat through her hometown.”

Bruce' lips quirked. “Will wonders never cease.” Tony picked up the pen but paused and straightened back up to give him the eye. “You went and threw a shitload of money their way didn't you.” The billionaire's face did its quick-to-erase-emotion-move. “The in-between does not matter. What matters is the result. You are now legally the boys' father.” Tony leaned in and put his name on the dotted lines in a few deft strokes.  
  
“And, as matters stand, there's still that sex education issue with Timmy and Damian in the future...”  
A fist, too fast to foresee, let alone dodge, curled into the front of his sweater jacket.  
"Tony..."  
  
They were close enough to bump noses, so Tony tilted his head.  
“You're doing it again, BB. That nostrils-flaring-thingy."  
The dark growl from the back of Bruce's throat was met with a wide, Cheshire grin.  
  



	48. Chapter 48

“Nervous?”

“Nah.”

“You look nervous.”

“Bull.”

Tony's smile was stretched wide and overly forced. He kept on bopping on the spot, so Bruce gave a few brief pats on his back and let his eyes skim along the rows of the huge auditorium. Behind them, a digital billboard was flashing the company logo in a sleek 3D-animation loop. “Good, because you are going to do just fine.” Stark blew out his cheeks, shook out his arms and hands, and cracked his neck.

“Yeah, but - holy smokes, there are more people here than I figured.” Wayne's eyes twinkled behind their glasses. “Weren't you the one who boasted about his textbook narcissism and, I quote, 'irresistible and humongous amount of swagger'?” Tony's potential answer got cut short when a group of men and women in suits passed them by. Bruce and he greeted them before they moved on, looking for the last free seats.

When Wayne laid his eyes on his husband again, the latter had put his arms akimbo. “Did you just air-quote-sass me or what was that?” Thin lips twitched with barely hidden amusement. “I learned from the best.” Tony pointed a finger at his chest. “See, that's the kinda pep-talk I need. Feed and stroke my ego, for I shall blossom and prosper.” Movement from the left side of the stage caught their attention.

Both nodded at the assistant director who pointed at his watch. Stark exhaled and straightened up. “Foot rub and fast food after?” His husband tilted his head. “More like half an hour of press interviews and finger food with the board.” Tony pulled a grimace that remained well-hidden in the dim light. “Maybe an argument could be made for takeout pizza and indecent behavior on the backseat of the Bentley?”

“... maybe.”

The Gothamite's hand then brushed over his shoulder one final time. It lingered just long enough for his husband to understand the way Bruce Wayne non-verbally expressed his love before they had to separate. Tony skipped up the stairs to meet Fox and their team of engineers, and Bruce took a seat in the first row.

Up on stage, Tony took a sip from the glass of water on the side and gripped the podium with both hands. “So, uh, yeah, hi and welcome everybody. Man, we should've sold tickets. We'd already be having most of the production costs back in. Pass a hat around or something.” A murmur of laughter rippled through the crowd, though Bruce noticed the senior board members did not so much as of crack the hint of a smile.

Tony's deep voice reverberated through the speakers. "Anyway. Everybody answers to something or somebody. The reason we're all here today is not for the glory, for cash, or for prizes. No, we're here because we're accountable to the world we're living in; to try and make it a better place for us and our future generations.” It prompted the first round of spontaneous applause, and Tony shared a look with Fox and his crew.

“In this context, I'd like you to focus your praise and attention on this bunch of awesome people here, including the great Lucius Fox without whom I'd probably still be scribbling neutral beam injection mechanisms on a whiteboard in the basement.” Polite chuckles and more applause. Tony then crossed his ankles, gradually easing into his usual jovial persona, and leaned one arm on the podium.

“But - no technobabble. I promised not to geek out on stage. Last but not least, I'd like to mention the man who owns and successfully runs this multi-billion dollar company. Not only has Bruce Wayne given me a big part of himself, but also the possibility to create technological marvel. For that, I'm always grateful.” Their eyes met, and for a few heartbeats, Tony stopped talking to focus on the way Bruce's lips curved into a small smile.

The little pause in his speech once more filled with applause. After several blinks, Tony then cleared his throat and broke their brief, clandestine moment. “And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, we'd like to present to you the very first, Wayne Enterprises' exclusive, ARC reactor. Clean and sustainable energy for Gotham City. Fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the show!” Over another round of applause, the room began to darken.

As soon as the official trailer flashed across the screen, accompanied by epic music, Bruce allowed his thoughts to drift. It had been a long, strenuous six months with many sleepless nights that had accumulated towards the current moment. All of his own nightly activities aside, Tony, too, had been working almost nonstop; at some point staying at Wayne Tower overnight to supervise the final production stages.

Even before its official introduction, the ARC reactor was already considered a true groundbreaking invention on the market. It ultimately revolutionized Wayne Enterprises and established it as the leading company for clean energy and sustainable resources. It also was the main reason LexCorp got a majority of its stocks dissolved in a short period of time.

That was where Bruce and his hidden but forceful business prowl had come into play. Without much public ado, Wayne then went and donated large portions of those incoming profits to the Wayne Foundation, the MIT Donor-Advised Fund, and the Fort Tryon Park Trust, among others.

Much to Tony's chagrin, however, Gotham Fairgrounds were still a major construction site. His wish to hold the ARC presentation at the grand opening of their science expo got nixed when it turned out all buildings on-site were of such dilapidated state that it had made a complete demolition and rebuilding process necessary. Instead of being disheartened by the setback, Tony's innovative spirit soared even higher.

With a team of architects, designers, and engineers, and Starship's 'We Built This City' on repeat inside Tony's office, he had done pioneering work on 4D-blueprints for construction site equipment much advanced to its predecessors. Bruce remembered how he had been asked to hand out the first prototypes for free to the construction companies involved at the Gotham World Fairgrounds to quicken reconstruction matters.

Intrigued by the possibilities of doing good for the whole infrastructure of Gotham, Tony then went and tackled the old Monorail system Bruce's parents had given the public to provide cheap and safe transportation all through the city. Stark and his team were about to give it a complete digital overhaul and revamp it into a high-speed train together with new systems to automatically re-route traffic around accidents or delays.

Bruce got back in the present by the sound of roaring applause throughout the auditorium. People had gone over to give standing ovations to the man high up on stage, who stood close to Fox and posed in a cocky but charismatic way, throwing up victory signs. Tony's eyes immediately found Bruce as the latter got to his feet. And there, over the shutter clicks and flashes of cameras, Tony blew his husband a kiss for everyone to see.

+

One evening mid-February, Tony decided to take his boys out to go see the latest progress made on the upcoming Expo fairgrounds. “This is an exclusive sneak peek, fellas. Just one more week till the grand opening ceremony. Boy, your dad's b-day is gonna be special this year. He'll never know what hit him once we do the gigantic cake on stage thing." Tim opened his mouth, question imminent, to which Tony's grin turned rogue.

"Yep, he's totally gonna hate it.”

He swiped his security card over the scanner and waited until the gates whirred open with an electric sound. “How many exhibitors are there?” Richard cast a curious look around at the silhouettes of huge installations all around them. A massive glass cube loomed up in the middle, being the heart of the Expo. Dynamic LED lettering was wrapped around it, reading _'Welcome To Stark-Wayne Expo – The Future Begins Here'_.

“53 national and international companies. If it becomes an annual institution, who knows, maybe we'll crack the 100 exhibitor mark, and...” Tony paused and narrowed his eyes at three unfamiliar figures who stepped out of the shadows of the glass cube pavilion. All of them wore black turtlenecks and balaclava masks. “Hey, how did you get in here? This is still private property as of this week.”

No answer. Instead, the men began to zero in on them. Without thinking, Tony stepped in front of his sons. “Run.” Even before they were able to do as their father's hissed comment told them to, their way was blocked by another two, equally masked men. “Everybody stays right here.” Tony's eyes darted around as he wet his lips. “You're making a mistake, fellas.” One of them stepped up to him, taller and far bulkier than Stark.  
  
“You already made one coming here.”

Tony did another assessing squint around and made a quick decision. “Okay. Here.” Several hands reached for hidden weapons as he made a move to reach into the inside pocket of his jacket. He held up his right while his left pulled out his wallet, pressing a button on his phone in the process. “I assume that's what you want.” The man took it and looked at his wrist. Without preamble, Tony unclasped the metal wristband.

“Now let us go.”  
A hand landed on his chest and pushed him back.  
“Not yet.”

Tony widened his stance, still trying to appear peaceful. “You got all of my money and my Rolex.” The gangster pointed at the person in their midst. “Move.” Without thinking, Tony stepped in front of Damian. “No.” Out of nowhere, a fist found its way into Tony's stomach, causing him to double over. A gasp from the boys made Tony grit his teeth and school his features into smooth nonchalance as he straightened up again.

“C'mon, pal, the watch alone is over $ 40.000.”  
  
Ignoring him, the gangster brushed past and advanced in on the youngest Wayne heir. Damian yelped in painful surprise as he was yanked by the arm. That was when Tony Stark-Wayne saw red. With a ferocious howl, he threw himself at the man and dragged him away from Damian, down to the floor. It resulted in three of their attackers grabbing him from behind and manhandling him into an upright position.

They then hauled him in front of their leader who grabbed him by the chin.

“You've just signed your own death warrant.”

 


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains physical violence. Please read at own discretion.

With brute force, the assaulter then brought one of his knees up to connect with Tony's groin. The pain was massive and immediate, and Tony collapsed to the ground with a scream of agony, curling up into a fetal position. His attacker rounded him like a hunter would his prey. “Stay down, old man. Better for your balls.” He then turned his attention back to the frightened boys who stood huddled close together.

Before he could reach for Damian, a shaky voice from behind made him stop in his tracks.

“N-no can do, amigo.” Tony was already on his knees and about to scramble to his feet until he stood, panting and swaying on the spot. “Leave 'em alone. Final warning.” The leader tutted, motioned for his accomplices to stay put, and zeroed in on Tony again. “You want it the hard way?” Stark managed to parry the first blow, but the second left hook brought him back down to his knees. “You can have it.”

He grabbed a fistful of Tony's hair and yanked his head back, sending red droplets flying. Another blow landed right in his unguarded face with a sickening crunch and he tumbled backward, dazed, as crimson started to run down in a steady flow. Two men hauled him up again and held him in place while their boss drew back his fist again, this time sinking it deep into Tony's abdomen. Stark grunted.

When they released his arms, he dropped to the floor in a dead weight. Vicious kicking commenced and made him curl up in a fetal position again, protecting his head with his arms and hands. Tony howled out loud when one of the attackers stomped down hard on his ribcage, and Damian and Tim began to cry in earnest.

Richard tried to shield their eyes from the sight and pressed them against his body. He was, however, unable to take his own eyes off the display of brutality. His toneless mumblings of “Tony” went unheard as the five men continued to kick him from all sides. Ferocious sounds from above then made everyone look up. A horde of bats descended from the sky, among them a huge black figure.

Its massive wings spread out wide as it rushed to the ground, ready to attack. In no time, all of the assaulters were sent flying through the air. The boys watched on, horrified, how the masked creature hunkered down next to the beaten body and reached out. “... no... Tony...” At the familiar voice, Stark stirred slightly, trying to blink his non-swollen eye open. Blood ran all over his forehead and down his chin.

“S'srry, tried...” He coughed out a patch of red. “B-boys?”  
  
The Batman looked over at the three pale faces who stared back at him in shock and disbelief. “Unharmed.” His gaze fell back upon the mangled countenance of his husband. “Don't move, you need medical support.” There was a click of a cocked trigger. “Not... so... fast.” Frantic eyes behind the cowl turned over to where the recovered leader stood and pointed a gun at Richard's chest. “Now what, freak?”

A shot rang out.  
The gangster dropped to the floor with a wail.  
Behind him, a silhouette hunkered on a dark pay booth.

“Shoot to maim, not to kill. Second-semester stuff.” The young male voice then jumped closer with a nimble somersault. A thick, dark-red woolen balaclava sat over his head featuring ripped-up mouth and eye slits. “Go. Hurry. I'll bring them home”, He nodded at the three boys. “And take care of the rest.” The two masked vigilantes looked at each other. Eventually, the Batman reached for the car keys in Tony's pocket.

Jason caught them mid-air. Bruce then rose to his feet, the limp form of his husband in his arms. A hissing sound of a grappling hook, a whoosh of a black cape, and he was gone. The remaining hooded figure turned to the scared boys. “Where's the car?” Richard found his voice again first. “M-main gate.” A pair of car keys then got thrown his way and he caught them in between two palms.

“Go get in, lock the doors from the inside, and don't open up until I come get you.”

As soon as the three of them were gone, Jason Todd looked down at the groaning heap of gangsters. The one with the bullet wound in the leg tried to crawl away, but a foot in his back stopped his escape. “Ah, ah, ah, we're not done here. You see, I am super inclined to skin you alive for what you've just done.” With a sharp, metal hiss, a blade shot out. “Let's see how that would turn out. Hypothetically.”  
  
+  
  
“Mister Wayne?”  
Bruce's head shot up from where he had stared at the opposite wall with unseeing eyes.  
“Yes?”

A young blonde with a friendly smile stepped up to him and he peeled himself out of the narrow and hard plastic chair of the waiting area. “I am Doctor Faye Somers. I run the neurology and neuroscience department at the Gotham General.” He took her hand and forced his grip to be not as strong and crushing as usual. “How is he?” Dr. Somers motioned for him to follow her into a nearby room labeled 'ICU 09-113'.

It held a simple desk with two chairs in front, and Bruce took one of them, opposite of the doctor. “Your husband is in a very critical condition. Our CT scans have located intracranial hemorrhage.” She turned on a nearby monitor and pressed a few buttons on a computer. A black and white picture flickered back at Bruce, displaying a scan of a head. The picture was labeled 'Stark-Wayne, Anthony Edward /290570'.

Doctor Somers picked up a pen she then pointed at the screen; respectively at a bright white area at the outer part of the head. “The bleeding is extra-axial, meaning it occurs within the skull but outside of the brain tissue.” Hazel eyes studied the scan for a few minutes. Bruce then leaned back, nothing on his face indicating any decipherable emotion. “Is he going to survive?” She put the pen aside and folded her hands.

“For now, we have put him in a medically-induced coma at a body temperature near hypothermia levels. He is constantly monitored and supervised, but the next 48 hours will be touch and go.” Wayne swallowed before he gave a single nod. “Anything else?” She nodded.

“A nasal fracture, though he was lucky enough not to suffer a septal hematoma. A broken radius bone on his left arm, fractured clavicle on the same side, and a blunt thoracic injury that is going to require surgical rib fixation with titanium plating.” The doctor paused and looked at the stoic man across from her. “All of these can and will be treated without difficulty. The thing I am concerned most about is his head injury.”

From where the Gothamite had regarded a small box filled with pens and pencils on the desk for the longest time, his eyes eventually traveled up. “Will there be any long-lasting damages or effects?” The doctor pressed her lips together before she inclined her head. It looked more like a politely tamed-down shrug. “A later-on loss of function such as motor paralysis might be possible. With traumatic brain injuries, it is hard to tell.”

+

Once Bruce stepped out of the small room, the waiting area was occupied with four familiar, distressed faces.

“Master Bruce.”

“How is he?”

“He's in a coma. The next 48 hours will decide.”

Tim rubbed a sleeve over his eyes while Damian drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. The billionaire regarded his sons with concern. “Are all of you alright?” Tim and Damian nodded while Richard just stared at his feet with gritted teeth. An info flyer from the hospital reception area was in between his hands, and he kept on clenching and unclenching his hand around the already mangled piece of paper.

Alfred and Bruce shared a look. When the Gothamite made a move to sit down next to his son, the latter flinched and slid onto the next chair. Bruce frowned. “You don't have to be afraid of me.” He fought hard to keep the implicit hurt from his voice. “I'm not afraid.” Richard's eyes narrowed under too long bangs. Just before Bruce could speak up, the teenager concluded. “I am disappointed in you.”

Stunned, Bruce watched him move out of his proximity. “You lied to us. All those years. How could you.” Wayne's jaw was set tighter than moments ago. He, too, rose to his feet. “It was meant to protect you from harm. All of you.” Richard's eyes blazed with untamed contempt. “Oh, yeah? Look what happened to Tony – they beat him within an inch of his life! You really fucked that up because THAT IS NOT PROTECTION!”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Master Richard, mind your words.” The youngster shook his head and refrained from meeting any of their gazes. “Here's what I'll do. I'll tell Babs. Everything! Her father is the Commissioner, he's going to find those men!” Bruce Wayne took a step into his direction. “You will not.” His voice had taken on a livid tone. His eldest son pushed out his chest and raised his chin, full of defiance.

“You are not my real father, I don't give a damn what you want! Dirty goddamn liar!”  
Bruce's hands twitched, once.  
“Richard...”

Full of raging teenage hormones, the boy threw the crumpled flyer at his chest. “SCREW YOU!!” Four pairs of eyes watched him storm away. Alfred took his jacket from his lap and stood up. “I am going to take care of this, Sir. You may stay for any changes in Master Anthony's condition.” Pennyworth motioned for Tim and Damian to follow him. Too stunned by the exchange they just witnessed, they did as they were told.

 


	50. Chapter 50

The first thing Tony saw during his first, tender brush with consciousness was a blurry silhouette. One of his eyes was completely swollen shut, and he had to blink several times until the milky haze that clouded his remaining vision was gone. The unshaven face of Bruce Wayne greeted him from close up, looking pale, haggard, and guilt-ridden. “Tony.” Relief and pent-up worry lay in those two syllables.

“BB.”  
  
It was more of an exhale, but even so, Tony's voice sounded distorted. His husband leaned in. “How do you feel?” Wayne's voice was thick with fatigue and distress. For a while, only rattling intakes of breath could be heard. Stark gave a low hum. “Breathin' h-urts.” Bruce eyed the white gauze cast upon his nose. The breathing tube in his mouth and the breathing machines had been removed just a few hours earlier.

There were, however, still large spots of iodine all over Tony's bruised face. He cleared his throat which had tightened up once more. “Nasal fracture. The latest dose of painkillers should kick in soon.” The corners of Stark's mouth twitched. “There go my g-,” He paused with a pain-filled moan. “-ood looks.” Wayne's face darkened at the sight of his visible agony. “No. What counts is that you are alive.”

Bruce reached out when he saw the fingers of Tony's right hand twitch and met them halfway, frowning at the torn skin across the knuckles. “I love you.” It sounded angry and desperate. He then bent down to breathe a soft kiss on the back of the hand, around the cannula that was stuck inside. “So much.” The tears in his eyes were silent and full of rage, yet Bruce managed to hold them back.

When he trusted himself enough to look up, Tony was unconscious again.  
  
+

It was 2 am when Bruce Wayne stood on the deserted hospital's cafeteria rooftop and nursed a Coke. It was a cold night, and faint sounds from the city wafted up. A rustle in the shadows made him take his free hand out of his pocket even if he did not attempt to turn around. “He was awake for the first time.” At his toneless words, the rustle manifested into the physical shape of Jason Todd. “How long was he in that coma?”

“Close to 48 hours.”  
Jason swore under his breath and Bruce let him.  
“Those fuckers were hired to nab him.”  
  
Two hazel, unforgiving eyes narrowed.  
“Tony?”  
“Damian.”

Neither man spoke for a while. Eventually, Wayne inhaled sharply. “Talia.” Venom poured out of his voice. Jason made an inappropriate noise with his mouth. “Fuckin bitch. I know it's kinda pointless to ask, but: Do you want me to...?”

“No.”

“Really now? Fuck this, you still go down that hardass route when they almost eradicated two-thirds of your family?”

The glass bottle in the billionaire's hand burst with a loud, sickening pop. Jason cocked an eyebrow as splinters and brown liquid rained to the ground. “Suit yourself, Daddy-O, but I'll be checking this out no matter what.” A hand grasped for his sleeve. “The official way.” Jason pulled a face when he saw how it left red stains on the fabric. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, didn't go to cop school for nothing. Fuckin justice wank, Bruce.”

Said man drew his hand back and crossed his arms instead. “It was you who wanted to study criminal justice.” His eldest son snorted. “I actually wanted to study English literature, but figured that wouldn't have riled you up as much.” For a while, Bruce stared out at the dark city at their feet. “It's not too late to change your mind.” A spitting sound. “Whatever. I'm telling ya these fuckers need to be found. Not their goons. The real deal.”

At that, Bruce looked him straight in the eyes for the very first time since the assault. “There will be no further casualties. I am going to do research, then we can go from there. Stay put and investigate.” A shrewd grin flitted across Todd's youthful face right before he drew the ragged woolen hood over his face. “You do that while I don't make promises I can't keep, old man.” A whoosh and he was gone.  
  
Bruce did not make a move to look past the rooftop banister. Instead, he turned around and walked back inside.  
  
+

_TWayne, 8:43   'are you still mad at us?'_

_RichieRich 8:46   'I'm not mad at you, Tim'_

_TWayne 8:47   'you haven't been home or at the hospital'_

_RichieRich 8:50   'I don't want to see him.'_

_RichieRich 8:50   'dad, not Tony. How's Tony?'_

_TWayne 8:51   'out of the woods but still not well enough to come home'_

_RichieRich 8:54   'shit'_

_TWayne 8:56   'are you at Babs' place?'_

_TWayne 8:58    'I'm not telling dad, I just want to know'_

_RichieRich 9:00   'yeah'_

_TWayne 9:00   'have you told her?'_

_RichieRich 9:02   'not yet'_

_TWayne 9:10   'her father's gonna put dad in jail Damian said'_

_RichieRich 9:11   'what does he know'_

_TWayne 9:12   'I don't want dad to go to jail!'_

_RichieRich 9:15   'ttyl, okay?'_

_TWayne 9:15   'kay'_

+

Tim trotted down the stairs of the Manor, headed for the dining room to eat breakfast.

Since Tony's hospital stay, he and his brothers had been exempted from school. While Richard continued to keep his distance towards his father and, subsequently, his family, Bruce Wayne was at the Gotham Grand most of the time. Alfred had taken it upon himself to drive Tim and Damian over for a visit every second day after trying to give the boys at least some sort of homeschooling during the morning hours.

“Good morning, dad. Many... happy returns.”  
  
Two tired, hazel eyes looked up from a mobile device. By now, the billionaire had stopped wearing his glasses around the house whenever they were alone. “Good morning, Tim. Thank you.” The boy slid into his usual seat and frowned at the otherwise empty table. “Where is Damian?” Bruce put the device aside and reached for the silver dinner bell atop his plate. “He wanted to eat in his room.”

In what was a sudden, internal decision, Tim then stood up, took his covered plate, and slipped onto the empty seat right next to his father; the one Richard usually occupied. Bruce refrained from making a comment and the two of them began to eat in silence. After a while, Tim let his fork sink and looked up. “I want you to know that – that I believe in you. In what you do.” Bruce Wayne swallowed and reached for his coffee cup.

“I appreciate that.”

His son scraped up the remains of his omelet and blinked twice. “... and even if it's not a real birthday present, I... I want to help you.” The fine china made a soft sound as the billionaire put it down. “That is very kind of you, Timothy.” Nothing followed, making Tim shift in his chair. “So can you... can you train me? To be able to fight the bad guys so that they never ever hurt Tony or anyone of us again?”

Bruce Wayne's eyes flickered over to the windows of the dining room and the hill with its huge weeping widow tree. Even from afar he could make out the distinctive shapes of two gravestones. “We shall see.” It came out more of a whisper. With new-found determination, Tim then put his napkin and cutlery aside just like he had learned and made a move to slide off his chair. His father motioned at the glass of juice.

Downing the glass in four hectic gulps, Tim then cast him another hopeful look. “Can I come along with you to the hospital today?” Putting his linen napkin aside, the Gothamite stood up. At the glimmer of hope in those blue eyes, a large palm briefly touched his son's shoulder.

“Of course.”

+

_TWayne 11:25   'it's dad's birthday btw'_

_TWayne 11:30   'are you gonna ignore me, too?'_

_TWayne 11:34   'screw you I'm going to become a vigilante'_

_RichieRich 11:36   'what the fuck are you talking about??'_

_TWayne 11:38   'I'm gonna train and fight crime like he does'_

_RichieRich 11:39   'that's utter BS!!!!'_

_TWayne 11:40   'no, it's not. He needs our help and you're deserting him'_

_RichieRich 11:41   'he LIED TO US!1!'_

_TWayne 11:41    'because we couldn't help ourselves in danger. But if we train, we can!'_

_TWayne 11:43   'so if you tell the commissioner, he'll put me in jail, too'_

_RichieRich 11:45   'where are you atm?'_

_TWayne 11:50   [file sent 0005.jpg]_

  
Richard Grayson-Wayne sat at the small alcove of Barbara Gordon's bedroom, an empty plate at his feet, and stared at the picture his brother had sent. It was a picture of their father at Tony's bedside. Bruce Wayne looked broken and defeated as he cradled a limp hand up in between his palms, forehead pressed against it.

 


	51. Chapter 51

Little by little, Tony started to become more responsive. Doctor Somers was able to take some of their biggest fears away when his latest CT scans showed a significant reduction of swelling and no further, new bleeding. The swelling on Tony's face had also started to go down, albeit slowly, and most lacerations all over his face began to scab over, even the sutured one in his eyebrow.

Stark still felt drowsy and bone-weary and kept on having episodes of severe nausea and headaches, but in those brief periods during which he was semi-coherent, he had always woken up to find Bruce by his side. Said man then leaned over him as he groaned and shifted. “'m feelin' like crap.” A knuckle ever so gently brushed over a non-bruised part of his temple. “Understandable. Relax. Breathe.”

Eyes closed, Tony's forehead creased as he tried to do as he was told. “Might b' m-missin' bazillion brain cells.” The touch withdrew and Tony heard the soft creak of a plastic chair. “Unlikely.” After a few heartbeats, Tony squinted over at his husband. “Says you. Wha'if Imma be like Rain Man? An' with a crooked nose?” For the first time in days, the faintest spark of joy flickered over Bruce Wayne's face. “You won't. Clean fracture.”

"Small fav'rs." Tony then leaned back with an exhausted exhale. “Sleep if you like. I am going to stay here.” Bruce was back to watching his countenance like a hawk. “Nno, I... sleep all'th'time. I gotta...” He spaced out for a few heartbeats as his speech became fumbling, and Wayne silently feared there was more to Tony's theory than he had assumed. “Th' boys, how.. I'mean... No-th' b-best way to let them... know.”

Something dark moved over Bruce's countenance. It was gone before Tony saw it.  
“They have taken it... well.”  
Stark hummed.

“...t'shock, pro'bly.”  
At that, Wayne lowered his head.  
“Tim wants to be trained.”

“No.”

Tony's voice was firmer than before, even if Bruce refused to look up and meet his eyes. “It might be a good idea to get all of them to be able to defend themselves. Like Jason.” It took long until realization dawned in on Tony's addled mind. “You. T--trained him.” A meek nod. “Until his temper got the best of him. He was out to kill, using guns even if I taught and told him not to.” Stark reached out until their hands touched.

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. Bruce forced out a lopsided smile. “That must be Tim. He's been here before you woke up. He just went to get a soda from the cafeteria.” Tony's tired features moved into true delight. “C--call 'em all in, I wan... wanna see 'em.” Bruce breathed a kiss upon his fingertips and turned towards the door. “Come in.” The door opened. In its doorway stood Tim, next to him his elder brother.

Bruce stared at them. Richard stared back with the same hostile expression from their last encounter. Tim gave a hesitant but hopeful smile.

“I hope you don't mind.”

The two youngsters were quick to glimpse over at the man inside the slightly elevated bed. When they found him awake and trying his best to smile at them, they were quick to walk over to his bedside. Tony's face fell when he realized who was missing. “D-Dami? Wh're?” A certain kind of panic swung inside his question. His husband chimed in. “He is at home with Alfred.” Bruce refrained from offering further explanations.

Truth was, their youngest had been dealing with bouts of stomach ache ever since the night of the assault. Alfred had been taking care of Damian with tea and crackers ever since and also, what Bruce silently hoped for, getting him to talk it out.

He got up from the chair and moved into the back of the hospital room to give his sons more space. From the corner of his eyes he saw and heard Richard and Tim talk to the man they had come to love as if he was their real father. At the amount of sadness and despair in their stances and their voices, Bruce ground his jaw and took a sharp breath as he stood and pretended to check the perimeter outside the window.

“I'll be right back.”

His brusque statement caused three pairs of eyes to fly into his direction. Tony's tired gaze followed him until the door had clicked shut. A small bout of dry coughing tore from his throat, and Richard sprang into action. He took the half-empty glass of water from his nightstand along into the adjacent bathroom to refill its stale contents with fresh, cold liquid. By that time, Tim had obtained control over the chair.

He had crawled as close as the lowered bed rails on one side allowed him to. Richard was just about to rebuke him for invading Tony's space and be mindful not to come too close to his broken ribs when heard his brother mumble something under tears. “Perfer et obdura...” [Hold out and persist, here: Stay strong...] Tony blinked twice and looked as if he was trying hard to remember the equivalent part of the sentence.

“... multo graviora tulisti.” [... you've gone through far more difficult situations]

It was a whisper, moreover it came a bit stuttered, but it made Tim bury his head deeper into the blanket, close to Tony's midriff. When his quiet sobbing became audible, sturdy but cold fingers landed upon his hair. Tony then closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, away from them, but Richard still saw the single tear that slid down his stubble-covered cheek and got soaked up by the pillow.

Wordless, the eldest Wayne son put the glass of water back onto the nightstand.

+

Bruce pulled the door to the hospital room shut and walked to the restrooms around the corner. Once inside the sterile area with its five empty stalls, he braced himself against one of the sinks, lowered his head and stared at the way his arms trembled. With gritted teeth, Bruce then straightened up, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face until his skin felt like it was pierced by thousand icy needles.

After rubbing it dry with scratchy paper towels he pushed the door open with a shoulder and came face to face with his eldest son.

“Can we talk?”  
Richard stared at the floor. Bruce inclined his head.  
“Of course.”

The boy walked to the end of the corridor and his father followed suit, albeit at a distance. Once they stood at the window facing the parking lot, Richard stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Tim said you are going to take him in as a... trainee.” Bruce's eyes traveled down to a bleached out, dusty plastic flower arrangement on the windowsill. “Tim expressed an interest in self-defense lessons.” Richard gave a low snort.

“Was that your long-term plan? Or would you rather just have left us in the dark forever?”  
His father did not reply to which Richard looked over his shoulder and saw him crossing his arms.  
“How and when did Tony find out?”

Memories invaded Bruce's mind, even if none of them made it into an outward reaction or facial expression. “By accident. Recently.” The boy turned back towards the window and drew his shoulders up even higher. When no further questions followed, Bruce allowed his arms to uncross and hang limply down at his sides. “None of this was ever meant to hurt you.” It came out stubborn, almost accusatory.

Richard, however, refrained from acknowledging him with another glance. “You may have convinced Tim, and I just know Damian is going to be on the same page - if only to be able to avenge Tony - but not me.” Bruce Wayne swallowed hard. “Fair enough.” Richard hesitated like he might have had expected another answer. He turned around until he was able to properly meet his father's eyes for the first time.

“I will not expose your secret. Tony is not going to have to deal with any more crap because of it.”  
Wayne Sr. gave a single, careful nod. His son's eyes then hardened.  
“... but I won't forgive you.”  
  
Father and son looked at each other for the longest time. Eventually, Bruce ever so slightly tilted his head.  
“I understand.”  
With that, Richard also nodded, once, turned on his heel, and walked back over to Tony's room.

They managed to keep a decent facade for Tony and Tim until the visit was over. An old Buick LeSabre stood waiting in the parking lot. Richard clasped his brother's shoulder once. He then looked at his father, about to say something, but instead clamped his mouth shut and walked over to where Barbara waited behind the wheel. “Dad, why is he doing this?” Unlocking the black Jaguar XKR, Bruce Wayne opened the door for Tim.  
  
“Give him time.”  
  
His voice was devoid of conviction.

 


	52. Chapter 52

At the beginning of March, Tony was finally allowed to leave the hospital and return home to his family.

His ongoing rehabilitation was going to take up a lot of his time, be that with appointments for physio- and kinesiotherapy, or even psychological treatment to help him develop appropriate coping strategies after what had happened to him. Richard had gone over to living with the Gordons, and while Bruce made no move to try and force his teenaged son back, Tony made a point of texting with him throughout the days.

_The_Starkster 2:45   'How was school?'_

_RichieRich 2:48   'Okay. How are you?'_

_The_Starkster 2:50   'Just peachy, but would be doing better if I got all my critters in one place ;)'_

_RichieRich 2:51   'Sorry I can't. Not yet.'_

_The_Starkster 2:55   'Alright, kiddo. On your terms. Just know we miss ya'_  
  
Persistent headaches and sleeping problems were only the tip of the iceberg. Some of Tony's fine-motor functions turned out to be hampered even after the brunt of his injuries had begun to heal. It ultimately left him no choice but to pass the mantle of R &D over to Lucius Fox for an infinite amount of time. Fox had also taken care of the Expo's grand opening, which Bruce had decided was going to take place just as planned. 

Thanks to Lucius and all of Wayne's PR department, the public was left in the dark about the true reasons for Tony's absence. Despite the thousands of 'Get Well' cards that rolled in for what had officially been labeled a fateful sports accident, Tony became thoroughly frustrated. “I can't even type properly, let alone use a soldering iron or a screwdriver!” As many times in the past few days, Bruce tried to be the voice of reason.

“Give yourself time. It's hardly been a month.” Stark drew back in an impulsive bout. “One too many!” He glared down at his left immobilized arm which hung in a black neoprene sling close to his body. “And it doesn't get better!” Tony tried to move it but had to admit defeat when there was no neuronal response. “See? It's useless! I'm useless! Fuck!” That was when his husband stepped close and took him by the shoulders.

“Stop that. You've come so far in such a short amount of time. Be patient.” With a push of his right hand against Bruce's broad chest, Tony detangled himself out of the semi-embrace. “Easy for you to say.” He turned around and strode out of the room, therefore missing out on the quiet words of the Gothamite.

“No, it's not.”

+

His eyes flew open with a soft but still audible gasp that escaped his lips. Yet another nightmare. Heart hammering in his chest and adrenaline pumping through his veins, he fumbled around in the dark. The mattress next to him was cold. Tony sat up with care at his still sore ribs and switched on the lamp on his nightstand. As expected, the room was empty. A glimpse at the alarm clock revealed it was 1:39 am.

After shuffling into his dressing gown with difficulty, he made a cautious round to check on Tim and Damian. Glad to find them sleeping peacefully, he headed on. Taking the stairs in his slippers, one step at a time, Tony then found the person he was looking for down in his gym. There was no music, and the only sounds that filled the air were dull and repetitive, almost hypnotic. The sound of punches being thrown.

“BB?”  
  
Wayne's breath came out in harsh puffs as he mercilessly beat down on a huge, cylindrical punching bag that hung on heavy chains from the ceiling. Tony awkwardly drew his robe tighter around his body and leaned against the doorframe. “BB, hey...” His diffident voice was almost lost to the unrelenting rhythm of heavy punching and equally hard breathing. “Two more minutes.” Tony Stark-Wayne frowned but eventually nodded.

“Okay, I'll just wait here then, and...”

“Two more minutes and I would've been too late.”

Tony then realized Bruce neither was talking to him nor had any intention of quitting. Upon shuffling closer, Tony saw how the white vinyl cover of the punching bag was already stained red. His frown deepened. “Okay, stop.” No reply. Bruce's hair was dripping with sweat and hung deep into his face as he continued to pummel the innocent item with unrestrained endurance.

“Bruce, love, please. I need you...”

For a moment, something like white noise blinded his vision. Tony thus closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand against his temple until the bout passed. The hitch in his voice and the way he braced himself against the multi-purpose rig had at least caused the frequency of the punches to lessen. Stark then positioned himself in front of the bloodied bag and stilled its motion.

“... I need you to stop.”

Chest heaving from exertion, the Gotham billionaire averted his gaze and stared at the floor. Sweat rolled down his bangs in a steady flow, got soaked up in his already drenched t-shirt or fell down onto the gym matting like raindrops. Tony reached out and took one of Bruce's abused fists into his hand. The once white hand wrapping around his knuckles was cracked and stained crimson.

“I need to train harder, become better, I...” At that, the fingers of Tony's right hand reached up to cup his damp cheek and forced him to look up. When their eyes finally met, misery was etched deep into Wayne's flushed features. “... I've got so much to lose.” One of his quivering arms came up to brush feather-like fingertips over a still prominent scar on the side of Tony's head. “I can't lose anymore.”  
  
Something in Tony's dark-brown eyes began to brim, and he closed them.  
Once he opened them again, the threatening tears were gone. Instead, there was determination.  
“Shower, then bed.”

+

“Evening, Mister Stark-Wayne. Way past your usual time.”

The security guard smiled at him. Tony smiled back. “Hi, Suzie. Yeah, with us crazy mechanics you never know when inspiration strikes.” He motioned with his good arm towards the elevator. “May I go and work a little? I promise I'll be quiet.” She nodded. “Of course. I will tell Eugene you're here when we switch shifts.” With a thumbs up he walked across the foyer with its large Wayne Enterprises logo embedded in marble tiles.

Key card in between his fingers, he slid it over a scanner next to the regular panel, to which the elevator began to descend from the 10th floor. Before the doors opened with a ding, Suzie called after him once more. "It's good to have you back, Sir.” Stepping into the cabin, Tony pressed -1 and flashed her a grateful smile. “Thanks.” The fluorescent lights of the basement came on as soon as Tony set a foot out of the elevator.

He headed down familiar but empty corridors until he reached his office. Inside, everything looked as he had left it the day before the assault and his resulting hospital stay. Even his coffee mug still stood where he had left it, displaying caked-on coffee stains at the bottom. Tony inhaled. His eyes flew over to a multitude of photos and pictures decorating one part of his cubicle which he had lovingly labeled his 'Wall of Fame'. 

After the initial introduction of the ARC, Bruce and Tony had made it on the cover of some of the most renowned business magazines. Forbes, WIRED, and The Economist each dedicated a multi-page spread on them. Fortune magazine put Wayne Enterprises among the top 10 of their Fortune 500 list for the first time in decades. The WE stock hit a record high of $170 per share, surpassing its all-time high by $ 50.

Tony's favorite front page cover, however, was from Vanity Fair. He liked it so much that he had gotten it framed and given it a special place on his cluttered desk. It showed him in a sharp-looking suit and eccentric sneakers combo, leaning on his husband, one foot crossed over the other. Tony was making a widespread, inviting gesture with both arms while beaming at the camera with a megawatt smile.

Next to him stood tall and bespectacled Bruce Wayne, stance wide and solid like a rock. His hands were in the pockets of his tailored three-piece Armani suit, the barest hint of a smirk playing on the edges of his mouth. The bold caption read _'How Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark-Wayne Are Revolutionizing The World'._ The ground seemed to reel underneath him, so Tony took a seat at his desk and forced his breathing under control.

A slight sheen of perspiration had built upon his forehead and he wiped at it with his arm before digging into the pocket of his jacket. The small, white bottle plopped open with a move of his thumb, but his hand trembled as he shook out two pills onto the desktop and pocketed the bottle again. Tony swallowed them dry, gagged on the bitter aftertaste, and reached for the retro mini fridge next to his desk.

He used the bottle opener that was mounted on the small door and downed a cold fizzy drink in three gulps. As he put the empty bottle aside, Tony glimpsed at his favorite coffee cup once more. It had been a wedding present from the boys. Oversized and shiny hot-rod red, it featured the caffeine molecule structure in golden lettering. His head still thrummed with growing anxiety, so Tony was quick to power up his mainframe.

While he waited for the system to boot, he stood up again to run water into the cup in the small sink in the corner. Seeing he could not wash or dry it properly with just one hand, Tony simply left it in there, filled to the brim. He rubbed his eyes with two fingers and busied himself fiddling with the recording function of his computer until he was able to use voice annotations on a secured document.

“New file, on private server TSW only. Project Neuro-Prosthetic, protocol 0.01. Topic: Substance and durability. Gauntlet needs to be made of durable material, maybe a visco-elastic polymer. Titanium alloy might prove realistic, given the proper ratio. A second file, also server TSW only. Project Neuro-Signal Acquisition Interface. Keep cognitive control options non-invasive if possible...”

Too immersed in his current configurations, he did not notice a silhouette blocking the exit to his office.

“What are you doing here?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspo for what Tony's mug looks like:  
> https://blackbirdpye.com/products/caffeine-molecule-mug
> 
> The framed picture on Tony's desk is based off of this one:  
> http://team-downey1965.tumblr.com/post/167985429861/new-robert-downey-jr-and-kevin-feige-on-the-set  
> (of course, in my head, Bruce looks much more suave and BAMF than Feige here;))


	53. Chapter 53

From where he had slouched in his chair, Tony straightened up with a little groan at the protest from his tender and still sore ribs. “Gone a little too stir-crazy and decided to swing by to see if my log-ins still work. Does Eugene know you're here, too, by the way?” As expected, his husband did not find his statement as funny as he did. “You should be at home, resting.” He strode into the cubicle, pulling off his overcoat.

Hidden underneath the classic Burberry trench Bruce wore a fitted, all-black outfit made from some sort of high-tech fabric. Tony knew from experience it was one of the final steps in making the transition from Bruce the businessman to Batman the vigilante.

“I admit this,” Tony gestured to the black neoprene sling his left arm sat in. “Makes for some great prolonged pampering, but it ultimately means no sexual encounters whatsoever, and that's not a really valid reason to keep me in bed.” Bruce Wayne's forehead creased in a huge, deep frown. “This is not the time for carnal activities.” A sigh. “Sadly not, no. You seem to think I'm made of glass.”

The Gothamite adjusted the non-prescription glasses he had not yet bothered to take off. “All of your other issues aside, I know for a fact that the rupture of your brachial plexus nerves has not fully healed so far. It is unwise to aggravate the area any further." His lips twitched, once, humorless. "Or me, for that matter.” It was meant to show concern but resulted in the exact opposite as Tony's jaw was suddenly locked tight.

“Issues, huh? Lovely. As for the rupture of my whatchamacallit - that's the reason I'm here.”

“What for?”

“To get it back to work. Even if it's only with the help of some prosthetic device, but it's a start.”

Instead of humoring him, Bruce Wayne reached for his mobile. “I am going to call Alfred to come by and pick you up.” Tony took a step in his direction, though he did not make a futile attempt to try and take the phone from his hands. “Nuh-uh, BB, forget it. You're not dragging him out here in the middle of the night.” Open dismay shone back at him. “I don't have time to play chauffeur to you.” That earned him a petulant look.

"And you don't have to. Go on, make your rounds. I got here by car, I'll get back by car when I'm done. Easy.”

At that, Bruce's face turned straight up homicidal. “What!? You did what?” Tony merely rolled his eyes. “I drive an automatic transmission car, Mister Big Bad Bully, I can very well steer it one-handed.” His husband's jaw worked in silence for a moment, before Bruce's brows furrowed. “That's... Stop being so utterly reckless, Tony.” The latter snorted. “Says the man who's gonna throw himself off of rooftops in less than 15. Double standard, BB.”

“I am trained for this.”

It came out hissed between teeth that were pressed together tight. Tony raised his chin in a provocative way. “And I'm just getting started.” Seconds passed. Eventually, the Gothamite shook his head to himself and brought his phone back to life. “You are going home. Now.” That was when his screen went black and unresponsive. When Bruce looked up, Tony shook his head at him. A small device was in his hand.

“Don't get all patronizing on me. I'm of legal age, unlike our munchkins.” They locked eyes in a battle of wills, altering between obstinate and challenging. Wayne then tsked with audible disdain and abandoned his commandeering stance. “I don't have time for this. Suit yourself.” Before he left, however, he stopped and pressed an angry if still gentle kiss on a pair of lips that twitched with barely contained smugness.

“Suit up, Sexy. I'll be fine.”  
A dark growl against his mouth.  
“You better.”

When Tony left the premises, it was already around half past midnight and he had made good progress on the first phase of his project. He dutifully paid attention to both the road and to the dark shadow up above that followed his every move from the Wayne Enterprises garage over to the homestretch of the Palisades.  
  
+

One week later, Tony was just about to head over to Wayne Tower once more. He had gotten into some kind of routine where he preferred to tinker at night, seeing that he was not back at R&D officially and his private project kept him busy. Bruce had stopped freaking out, at least to his face, and let him concede. However, he still made a point in coming around Tony's office every time before he suited up and went on patrol.

“Looking quite in the pink again there, Daddy Stark.”

The cocky voice shook Tony out of his thoughts and made him look up. Jason stood in front of the Manor one shoulder leaning against a granite pillow. A well-worn, khaki duffel bag sat at his feet. Tony's mouth curled into a lopsided smile. “Why oh why does that sound so dirty coming from your tongue, Jay?” Todd shrugged one-shouldered. “Must be you.” Stark snort-chuckled. “Must be me.”

He pulled the main door shut, picked his little carbon fibers case box back up from the ground, and squared his shoulders. “To what do we owe the honor of your rare visit? No one's been stealing from Bruce's pantry lately. All that excess food's really becoming a problem.” Todd tsked. “Just getting a few things. Also, I'm pretty sure he was gonna poison me.” Tony threw him a sympathetic look that was thoroughly fake.

“Celery and broccoli are truly the worst, or so I've heard.” The adolescent followed him down the stairs and over to where the R8 stood parked up front with the top down. “The old man lets you drive like that?” Tony's case box landed on the floor of the passenger seat with a thud. “Like what, huh? Despite my 'performance issue' you mean?” At the blunt testiness, Jason raised his hands in mock-surrender.

“Wasn't gonna go there. Think you can give me a ride? If you dare to go faster than 35, that is.” Tony threw him his best 'oh please' look but snorted in a mild-mannered fashion. “Hop on in, freeloader. Where to?” Jason headed for the passenger door. “To the airport, James.” Tony watched him stow his bag at his feet and buckle up. “Spring Break shenanigans?” Jason grinned, wide. “Criminal justice internship.”

He eyed the way Stark reached out to close the driver's door with his good arm. “Want me to drive? I'd be down for it.” The Spyder sprang to life with a ferocious growl. It matched the look on Tony's face. “Like hell.” They drove in silence, slightly above speeding limits, and in mutual admiration for the powerful V10 engine sound for the longest time. At the first traffic light, a knowing grin then appeared on Tony's face.

“By the way - I've heard about your brief internship at Batman Incorporated. What was that about?”  
Jason's grin turned snide.  
“A lapse in judgment.”

“On whose part?”  
They gained velocity and zipped past a delivery van. Jason glimpsed at the speedometer.  
“Daddy-O's fighting style is the best I've ever encountered out in the field, but his codex sucks. Big time.”

“Nah, Grasshopper, it's called ethical behavior. Bruce happens to have a very strong belief in moral values.”  
Now Todd's youthful features morphed into clear and present scorn.  
“You really think he's all that clean slate and honest by nature?”

“With me, he is.”  
  
Tony's prompt and determined response made Jason tut a few times. “So he's also told you about the true reason for the attack on you at the fairgrounds back then?” Tony harrumphed. “Those low-life thugs? What's to tell? They're behind bars, I got my Rolex back – which, shut up, I'm only sentimental about cause it's got an inscription - so what the heck do I care about their tragic and troubled backstories?”

Jason pursed his lips and crossed his hands behind his head. “Maybe that they've been hired by Talia Al-Ghul and her wicked criminal family? And only cause the old man really pissed her off big time after he went and tricked her into giving up parental rights for you to become Damian's lawful daddy number two?” Tony's eyes narrowed, even if he kept his gaze on the road. Over a downshift crackle, Jason then hummed.

“Here's the deal, tho: Bitch not only wanted her spawn back but also see you bleed to death. Pretty strong case of maternal jealousy if you ask me.”

Todd had to grab the door handle as Tony jerked the wheel and brought the Audi to an abrupt stop at a dusty turn-out next to the street. The youngster threw him a look of mock shock. “Oops, so he didn't tell you all of that, too? Must've slipped his ethical codex completely.” Tony's jaw clenched. “Where did you get this?” His voice was rough. Jason slid deeper into the seat and put his left ankle atop his right knee.

Tony watched him twirl and fiddle with the dirty shoelaces of his sneakers for the longest time.

“Jason...”

It sounded breathless but held a very distinctive warning undertone. Jason threw his hands up. “They were supposed to 'take care' of you, okay? And not just with a clean bullet to the head; it was meant to hurt till the end. At least that's what they told me, but hey, maybe I misunderstood. I mean, those guys were quite talkative after the right kind of persuasion, but then again, talking without tongue is a bit hard to understand.”

Todd went back to fingering his sneakers, though with a look of grumpy remorse. Stark said nothing and kept on staring ahead while the fingers of his right hand clawed deeper and deeper into the upper part of the leather steering wheel. After a good two minutes, Tony then put the R8 back into driving mode, checked the rear-view mirror and sped off with squealing tires, heading down the freeway to Gotham City Airport.

 


	54. Chapter 54

As soon as he had dropped Jason off, Tony put the pedal to the metal and floored it all the way over to Wayne Tower.

His head felt loopy, and the first thing he did as he reached his office was to grab two bottles of water from the mini fridge in his office. While he sat and gulped down the contents of the first one in one go, he pulled up his inbox and skimmed through the latest unread emails. When a drop landed on the smooth surface of his table, Tony realized he was sweating. He wiped it away with a sleeve and rubbed his forehead.

Seeing his thoughts were still scattered all over the place, Tony soon abandoned the halfhearted task of reading and went over to power up his holodesk. Its generator came to life with a low, static hum. Because it was intended to remain a prototype, Tony had specifically manufactured the desk for his interests. It had helped in creating the first digital layers of a prosthetic left gauntlet he had drafted from scratch.

The corresponding headset was making good progress, but the how and where to install a mandatory power source still remained a minor hurdle. “Needs to be attached to something... chest-mounted? There should be a vest... or something more...” Tony kept on mumbling into the silence as his trembling fingers began to draw additional lines, angles, and shapes all around the gauntlet. 

Less than an hour later, he was staring at a rough outline of a digital, whole-body armor. A power source was now sitting right in the middle of a sleek-looking, plated chest piece, its shape identical to that of a miniaturized ARC reactor. The headset had evolved into a full-blown helmet and bore two sharp, horizontal eye slits. With a motion of the digital pen, Tony nudged the 3D model and sent it into a 360° view.

As it kept on spinning before him, he stepped back and downed the remains of his cold coffee in one go. Running a thumb back and forth over the raised part of the caffeine molecule structure on his cup, Tony regarded the monochrome humanoid with something between fondness and mild wonder. “Well, hello there, Tin Man. What am I gonna do with you, hmm?” His gaze fell down on the mug in his hand.

The technical specifics of the suit were displayed on a touch screen at the side, and Tony played around with the paint configurator for the longest time, testing out a few combinations, until the suit that gleamed back at him was red-gold instead of plain metallic. “Now, you may not run on coffee like me, but at least you're not looking like you should be walking down the yellow brick road with Dorothy anymore.”

At that point, familiar, almost soundless steps echoed down the corridor.

After two incidents that had involved a lot of screaming and innocent office equipment being thrown the intruder's way in an attempt of self-defense on Tony's part, Bruce had relented to make himself as non-stealthy as possible during his brief visits. Even if Tony was quick to put a stop to the little figurine animation, the program would not save and close as easily, however, so he headed back over to his work desk.

When Bruce entered the office, Tony sat in his swivel chair, looking apprehensive. Wayne bent down to kiss him, only to frown at the rather lackadaisical effort he received in return. “What's wrong? Do you feel unwell? I told you you're overexerting yourself, but you wouldn't lis-” Tony held up his palm and shook his head at the same time. “No, I...” He pointed at the computer screen to divert Bruce's attention.

“I got invited to the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Their annual meeting is going to take place in Boston, starting tomorrow. I was asked to speak about the ARC.” A pause. “I want to attend. Four days. It also could be helpful to get opinions on upcoming... projects.” His eyes flickered over to the 3D schematics in the corner. Bruce caught his stare, fleeting as it was. “What is this?” Stark gulped.

“It's a suit.”

Hazel eyes narrowed at the corners. “I can see that. What kind of suit?” Tony got up from his chair, grabbed an item that looked like a pen, and began to point at the bluish, floating holographic. “An armored suit, made from gold-titanium alloy. Robotic exoskeleton with anthropo-robotics, sensors, and nano-hydraulic technology to withstand high impacts, extreme temperatures, and most common attacks.”

No reply.

“At first it was a mere prosthetic, but then I realized its potential. It's going to revolutionize that whole vigilante concept of yours, because this? This is safe with a capital S!” For a long time, Bruce Wayne said nothing. Until he did. “So you think I am not capable of protecting my family.” Tony put the digital pen down, slowly. “Listen, that's...” The billionaire cut him off with a brusque gesture.

“You feel like you are not safe with me anymore because I failed you.”

Bruce's arms came up to protect his chest. Tony reached out to grip the backrest of the swivel chair with his hand. “Is there... anything else you need to tell me about that night, maybe?” His voice was cautious, baiting. Both of them were breathing harsher than before. When Bruce pressed his lips together and locked his jaw, Stark looked at the floor, took a deep breath to compose himself, and exhaled.

“Okay. I... okay.”

He raised his head and fixated his husband with grim determination. “Here's the thing: I will build the suit. For me. For us. You cannot lock me away like Rapunzel, trying to protect me from all harm and yet go and throw our boys out onto the streets to fight crime like their dad.” After what seemed an eternity, the Gothamite then uncrossed his arms. A sinister aura surrounded him.

“Then go. Go build your suit. Go, take all of my money, and build whatever makes you feel safe again.”

His acid tone left Tony to shake his head with a certain kind of wariness. “I've long since been waiting for that other shoe to drop, actually. Thanks for reminding me of my true gold digger mentality, Mister Wayne.” The billionaire's face twisted with a vulnerability he was quick to hide under a mask of indifference. “You should realize the utter insanity of everything you've just said.” He pointed at the 3D model idling over the table.

“And that includes your flight of fancy and the need for unsolicited heroics.”

Eyes ablaze, Tony seethed back at him. “Oh, yeah? Get past that need for stonewalling and an ego too big to accept a realm other than your own, Mister Vigilante With A Self-Preservation Instinct In The Negative Zone. I know why we were attacked that night, okay?! Jason told me the whole, brutal gist of the matter - but I should've heard it from you! Your actions might've been noble, Bruce, but the result fuckin' sucks!”

The door to Tony's office cubicle slammed shut with a loud rattle. After it became clear Bruce was not coming back, Tony forced himself to breathe in and breathe out until his flare-up of anxiety evaporated and left him utterly drenched. Before he went home hours later, Tony sent Lucius Fox several encoded blueprints together with a confidentiality agreement and an explicit wish to keep things under wraps.

That night, the Batman stayed out on patrol longer than usual. Even if he had laid awake until he heard sounds from the adjacent bathroom, Tony feigned sleep when Bruce entered the bedroom. The Gothamite thus slipped in on his side of the mattress and turned his back on him.

When Tony woke the next morning after a dreamless night, his husband was gone without a note.

+

The Hynes Convention Center in Boston was an hour-long flight from Gotham City. Tony avoided flying commercial because of the remaining metal inside his body which would have caused many delays at the airport security gates. Instead, he took one of Bruce's Gulfstream jets Alfred was so kind to charter for him. Upon his arrival, the rush of attendees, as well as the press coverage around the convention center, was immense.

His sling artfully hidden under an expensive overcoat, Tony Stark-Wayne dutifully smiled behind his designer shades and threw up victory signs for the photographers. He paused at the newsroom to give a cheeky statement about his involvement in making the ARC a worldwide leading source for clean energy sources before he hurried to make it to the opening ceremony of the AAAS president in time.

Tony spent the first two days going to a lot of panels, workshops, and symposiums about global and ecological sustainability, computational efficiency, and cognitive science. He also led several roundtable discussions about the ARC and its consequences for the environment and got to meet with the elite of international scientists. During the whole time, his phone stayed silent.

On day three, Tony stopped having it on flight mode but the result was the same. He smiled at an email from Lucius telling him all parts of his confidential project had been fabricated as requested, and frowned at a text from Tim telling him that Bruce was also away on business since Saturday. The exhibition hall was crowded, but Tony managed to score a vacant table and bar stool in a small catering area.

He checked all of his messages again, but his husband indeed had not bothered to inform him, and it stung. The small letters on screen began to blur until Tony realized it was due to how badly his hand was shaking. From the corner of his eye, he then felt being watched and glimpsed up. Frowning, Tony then shoved the mobile back into the inside pocket of his jacket and pretended to study the laminated menu on the table.

The voice that manifested itself by his side belonged to the pair of eyes Tony had been busy ignoring. “I knew you'd be here.” Stark did not bother to look up. “Funny, can't say the same about you.” It got him a chuckle in return. “Why, this is the world's leading science gathering. The place to find others who appreciate our innovative spirit.” With an exasperated sigh, Tony raised his head and looked the person straight in the eye.

“Go away, Lex.”

 


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional heads-up: This chapter takes a dark turn which is not tagged since it is not permanent

“I don't have any bad intentions, Tony. I simply wanted to congratulate you on your success.”

“Yeah, course.”

“May I sit down for five minutes? My feet are killing me and my throat is parched after all that talking.” Seeing there were no other seats available, Tony reluctantly pointed his chin at the free bar stool opposite of him. “Thanks. Drinks are on me. What can I get you? They don't seem to offer a good whiskey, though.” Tony shook his head. “Just a Coke.” The man from Metropolis reached out for the laminated menu.

“Now, now, I believe it's not that bad. See, they do have a decent list of white and red wines at least.”

“No alcohol. I'm on meds.”

Luthor looked at him questioningly until he followed Tony's gaze down to where his jacket hung over his left arm, its sleeve empty. “Oh. That's...” Tony interrupted him by nodding along. “A Coke will do.” His jaw was locked tight. Wordless, Luthor tilted his head and got up to place his orders. He returned with a small glass bottle that had a plastic cup balancing over its neck and even went to fill it for Tony.

“Zero only.”  
Stark half shrugged, half nodded his thanks.  
He reached for it without waiting to toast the other man's gin tonic.

Luthor swirled his drink and shook his head at the same time. “I don't hold any grudges against you, Tony. Bruce may have taken over my company, but I am not a broke man living under a bridge. I am an entrepreneur, you see. I always manage to come back stronger even after hitting the ground. And I think we both know very well that Bruce's company owes its recent hot streak entirely to your ingenuity.”

Tony gave a mirthless smirk around the rim of the cup. “Not living up to that role as of late.” The bald man tilted his head. “Because of your – injury?” Stark shifted on the hard plastic bar stool and drank up. “Gotta fix myself first.” Luthor pursed his lips. “May I ask how...?” With a click of his tongue, Tony put the empty cup aside. “You may.” Nothing followed. Lex thus put an elbow on the table and leaned in.

“I couldn't help but overhear you talking to Miguel Nicolelis about ways to create neuroprosthetic devices powered by high-energy electron flux. Pretty exciting stuff.” Despite his disapproval of Luthor, Tony felt a rush of excitement at the thought of his latest innovation. “Uninteresting, as long as it cannot be miniaturized to fit and power a bodysuit.” The bald man's eyebrows rose, leaving peculiar, skew lines all over his forehead.

“You are working on a high-energy flux bodysuit?” Stark's lips spread into a proud smirk. “External armor, actually. Supersonic flight mode, weaponry, and decoy flares - you name it.” Luthor wore a look that showcased he was truly impressed. They both looked up as the shutter of a camera clicked several times. A photographer had just walked past the catering area, on a mission to capture the overall hustle and bustle.

While Luthor put up an easy, suave grin, Tony managed a strained smile. As soon as the reporter was headed for the next table, Lex focused back on Tony. “Why haven't you put it into mass production? It sounds like a sure bet for all kinds of military purposes.” Tony flicked his thumb and index finger against the empty Coke bottle, catching it before it could topple over. For the briefest moment, his lips curled in dismay.

“Bruce doesn't care.”

Unbeknownst to him, busy trailing the damp spots from his bottle on the plastic tablecloth, the corners of Luthor's mouth twisted upward. “Oh, but why is that? Doesn't he support all of your ideas?” A frown. “He...” It was then that Tony blinked, looked up, and shook his head as if he had just woken from a brief stupor. “No. Forget it. You don't get to act as some sort of twisted kingmaker here. Not gonna grant you that.”

“Kingmaker, Tony?”

“You know – someone who helps an opponent win instead of trying to win himself? For whatever warped reason. I'm neither going to talk business with you, nor am I going to share insights on my projects.” For a second, the bald billionaire looked to be on the verge of honest sadness as he blinked down into his drink.

“Tony, please. You're thinking entirely into the wrong direction. I mean, sure, I wouldn't be opposed to offering you my full support in helping to make this thing big. If Bruce keeps on disapproving and you need a second opinion, we...”

A faint chime of a mobile phone interrupted his train of thought. It came from Tony's pocket. One finger held up to pause Luthor mid-sentence, Tony put the device to his ear. “Al, hi, what's up?” A shaky intake of breath. “Master Anthony, something terrible has happened. A... horrible tragedy.” The butler paused and took a deep, almost shuddering breath. Tony braced himself against the table, heart racing painfully fast.

“What is it?”

“It is Master Jason.”

+  
  
Tony arrived back in Gotham late that afternoon, to a heavy downpour. As soon as the cab stopped in front of the Manor, the butler was at the door with a large umbrella. “Master Anthony. I am glad you came.” Tony allowed him to take his luggage as they hurried to get back inside. “As fast as I could, Al. Where is everyone?”

“Master Tim and Master Damian are in their rooms, I did not have the heart to tell them what has happened.”

“And Bruce? Where's Bruce? How is he holding up?”

“He is the reason I contacted you. I am deeply worried about Master Wayne's mental and physical health.”

“What happened?”

“The League of Shadows, they... you see, Master Jason went after Miss Al-Ghul, despite Master Wayne's explicit warnings.”

A queasy feeling settled into Tony's stomach as he recalled his ultimately last encounter with Jason, but then Alfred continued to speak. “Master Wayne tried to stop him, but by the time he got to Cairo, it was already too late.” Bruce's supposed business trip Tim had mentioned replayed in Tony's mind as he followed the butler over to the south passage of the Manor.

“As soon as he learned of Master Jason's death, he went and switched off all of his communicators for hours on end. I was... honestly concerned about his life that night.” Tony swore under his breath. “By a miracle, Master Wayne was back in Gotham in the early morning hours. I have witnessed a video conversation with Miss Al-Ghul, and my blood ran cold at the things they said to one another.”

They strode along the vast corridors, heading for what Tony knew was the cave's hidden entrance. “Ever since then, Master Wayne has locked himself in the cave with Master Jason's body, for almost two days now. When I tried to tell him that the funeral is scheduled for tomorrow morning, all I got was 'I am not putting my boy in the dark after he died in it alone.' Frankly, Sir, I fear for his mind at this point.”

Stopping at the well-known, secret entry to the cave Tony cast the butler a thoughtful glance. “Gosh, Al, I... I don't know if I can fix this.” The hidden elevator door opened with a soft whoosh. Alfred's eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “If you can't help, Master Anthony, no one can.”

+

It did not take Tony long to override the cave's security mechanism. Darkness and damp air engulfed him, together with an eerie silence that was only broken by the far-away screeching of bats high up at the ceiling. “B--ruce?” His voice reverberated off the rocky walls as Tony looked around the vast cavernous structure. Across the lake, up on one of the hydraulic platforms, he could make out two silhouettes.

One was lying on a medical gurney, covered up with some sort of blanket, while the other sat at the head of the gurney, hunched over the table. Bruce still wore his Batsuit but had shed the cowl and his gauntlets. His bare hands were palming his face, both elbows upon the table. Tony swallowed at the sight of an empty bottle of what apparently had been expensive liquor or whiskey that stood by his side.

“BB, it's me.”

The hunched-over figure raised its head until Tony was able to catch a glimpse of his husband's face. Wayne was unshaven for what must have been a longer period of time. “Leave me 'lone.” It sounded nothing like the person Tony had come to know and love over the past one and a half years. He swallowed. “You know I can't and I won't.” Bruce did not acknowledge him and reached for another, almost empty bottle instead.

With caution, Tony began to make his way along the small jetty over to the platform, holding onto the flimsy banister with his good hand. The platform ladder was slippery from the water it was usually hidden below, and Tony debated with himself whether it was wise to try to make the way up with just one functioning arm. In the end, he decided it was not and remained standing a few feet below, craning his neck upward.

“It was not your...”

“SHUT UP!”

A crashing sound, then the now empty bottle scattered down to drop and disappear within the dark murky waters. Putting his palm against the cold, wet metal, Tony lowered his head. “You're scaring me, Bruce. Don't shut me out. I'm here. I won't leave you.” No response. Counting his breaths, Tony eventually made out a faint, foreign sound. It was the sound of Bruce Wayne crying into the night for the lost life of his son.

Standing at the bottom of the platform, separated by mere feet but feeling miles away, Tony could do nothing but listen to his wretched, suppressed sobs for the longest time. After an hour, Pennyworth stood up from where he had waited on the small piano stool in front of the secret entrance. A quiet rattle of the elevator cabin, then Tony Stark stepped out, pale, red-eyed, and with disheveled hair.

The butler stepped into his direction, worry written all over his features. “Alfred? Bruce is ready to let Jason have the funeral he deserves. Please go in before he... changes his mind.” Tony swayed a little on the spot but steadied himself against the nearest bookshelf before Pennyworth could.  
  
“Now I am going to see the boys.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real-life Miguel Nicolelis hopefully does not mind being referenced here. This is what inspired his cameo:  
> https://aaas.confex.com/aaas/2013/webprogram/Paper9369.html


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... this fic is going to have a happy ending, I swear!

Tim and Damian sat together in Tim's room, for once not bickering but united by the subliminal feeling of something being very wrong. When Tony stood in the doorway, bracing himself against the frame, Damian frowned at him with the same peremptory expression that reminded him of Bruce in their early days. Tim, on the other hand, sprang to his feet. “Tony? What is wrong?”

Anxiety was written all over the boy's young face as he stepped up to him. “Has something happened to dad?” Tony shook his head and dropped it to his chest. “No, it's..." He heaved a sigh even as he clasped Tim's shoulders and steered him back over to sit on the bed. When the two boys sat side by side again, legs dangling over the mattress but not touching the floor, Tony hunkered down in front of them.

"Jason got into a... a fatal accident overseas. I am so sorry.”

“No.”

Before Tony could reach out for him, Tim twisted around, clawed his hands into the comforter, and squeezed his eyes shut. He kept on mumbling the same word over and over as he buried his head in the fabric. Tony's hand hovered over his leg for the longest time until Damian who had not moved so far started to make some small frightened noises. Tony looked at him and saw the blood running from his nose.

“Shit!”

Stark jumped to his feet with a small curse and grabbed a tissue box from the nightstand. Seeing the crimson flow from his body somehow seemed to agitate Damian further, and Tony ripped out a bunch of tissues to hold them under his nose. “Heyheyhey, Dami, okay, easy does it. Lean your head forward and breathe.” He cast Tim a pleading glimpse. “Timmy, can you go wet a washcloth with cold water?”

Unable to use both hands to rub the boy's back, Tony sat and tried to make soothing shushing noises until Tim returned with the requested wet rag. “Press it into his neck and hold it in place.” They sat around Damian until the nosebleed finally ebbed off and Tony could go dispose of all the crimson tissues. Tim followed him into the small bathroom as he washed his hands down. “What about Richie? Does he know?”

Tony threw the towel back onto the rack. “Not yet. Don't text him, I'll take care of it."

After a while, when Damian had finally fallen asleep in his arms, Tony dared to pick him up one-armed and carried him over into his own room. He gave a final tender brush to the bangs across the boy's forehead and pulled the covers up high. Tim stood outside with eyes that were swollen and red-rimmed anew and waited until Tony had pulled the door shut. Wordless, Tony spread his good arm and allowed him to weep into his chest.

“Can I pick something for the stone?”  
The whispered words made Tony wipe his own eyes with the heel of his hand.  
“Stone?”  
  
He cleared his throat just as Tim sniveled into his sleeve.  
“The gravestone.”  
The man who was both his nanny and his father nodded and pulled him closer to his chest yet again.  
  
“Of course.”

+

The next morning, Gotham was a mixture of looming, gray clouds and cold rain pelting down on black umbrellas. Tony and Bruce stood side by side, next to Alfred Pennyworth who held a huge umbrella over the three agonized silhouettes of the Wayne boys. A third, new gravestone was sitting next to Thomas and Martha Wayne's. It was several shades lighter but also featured some simple, dateless engraving.

_Jason Peter Todd-Wayne_

_Beloved brother and son_

_'Familia cordibus aeterna vivit'  
[In our hearts, family lives forever]_

After receiving Tony's call, Richard had denied any pick-up service from either him or Alfred. He had arrived alone, via Barbara's car, just prior to the beginning of the ceremony, and had hidden away in his room to change into the black suit and tie Alfred had put out for him. He had not spoken with his father ever since his arrival; however, Tony very well saw the glances the adolescent had thrown Bruce's way.

The latter stood, rigid and tall as always, in a long, dark overcoat and endured the service without any emotion. Once it was over, Bruce handed his husband the umbrella before he slipped out of its shielding and headed across wet lawns towards the Manor through the pouring rain. Tony made eye contact with Alfred and non-verbally asked him to take Tim and Damian along while he headed over to Richard.

He took him under his umbrella and walked him back to the Manor. “Talk to him, Richie. He's suffering.” Richard swallowed and stared at his feet but eventually nodded. They reached the stairs and Tony made an inviting gesture. “Hurry up so you don't get wet.” The boy did as he was told, long legs taking two steps at once. Tony trailed behind, taking his time until he reached the main door which had been left open.

As he stood and shook out the umbrella, he heard bits and pieces of a very agitated conversation.  
  
“Dad, I didn't...”

“You made your point. Feel free to leave.”

“Are- are you throwing me out?”

“You haven't been living here for over a month.”

“I came here today!”

“The least you could do.”

“... God, I hate you!”  
  
Tony called after Richard to wait, but it was of no use. The front door slammed shut and the sound of a car driving off could be heard. Full of reproach, Tony turned to the man who stood in the large foyer of his mansion, shoulders hunched and his expression shrouded by the diffuse lighting from the overhead windows. “He made the first step and you shunned him. I wanna know why.” Wayne's eyes were dull.

“I need to be alone.”

He did not bother to wait for his husband and went over to what Tony knew was going to be the cave. Furious on the inside, Tony turned around as well and headed for the garage. The R8 sped down the driveway soon after, windshield wipers set at the fastest pace, headed for Wayne Tower.  
  
+  
  
For hours on end, Bruce just sat in the dark of the cave, chiseled features illuminated by the blue tinge of his supercomputer. Several news channels were running in the background, as usual. A bottle of brandy stood on the vast console within his reach, already two-thirds empty. Alfred had tried twice to make him come upstairs or at least eat something, only to get next to no response at all.

Bruce's eyes narrowed in on a small window where pictures of Tony and Lex Luthor side by side at the AAAS Annual Meeting got shown. The headline above read 'A New Alliance?' Never taking his gaze off the screen, Wayne raised the bottle to his lips and tilted it so that the amber-colored liquid guzzled down his throat.

“Master Wayne, I do not think you should watch TV tonight.”

The butler's voice spoke of concern. Brushing him off with a belligerent motion, Bruce pressed a button to enlarge the screen of a news channel which caught his attention with its 'Breaking News!' ticker.

_'Unknown act of retaliation in suburban Cairo / Crime cartel eradicated / Leading members of the Al-Ghul clan dead or under arrest'_

Footage from the location got shown. At the sight of a distinctive red-golden armor that slashed through the village and its buildings with precision and deadly vigor, the Gothamite stared on for several heartbeats, transfixed. He then began to fumble for his phone, pressed the speed dial, and put the device to his ear.

“ _Hi, you've reached the mailbox of Tony Stark-Wayne. Either I cannot or do not wanna talk to you right now. Leave a message after the beep.”_

Bruce pressed a button to end the call and let the phone sink into his lap.

+

Tony touched down on the rooftop of Wayne Manor in the early morning hours. The faceplate opened with a soft whoosh, expelling a gust of steam as it mingled with the first whiff of fresh air in hours. The torrential rain from the previous day had died down to a steady drizzle, and he gulped its pure scent in like a drowning man. His first trial run in the suit had proven to be a true baptism of fire.

The installation of an AI to take care of most in-flight adjustments had come as an afterthought to Tony, sometime during those many symposiums in Boston. As it turned out, it had been the smartest choice given the overload of tech involved. Getting almost 300 lbs of metal into the air and granting it a super maneuverability better than any fighter jet should have made him weep at the sheer scientific joy of things.

However, the circumstances and purpose leading to the invention left Tony with a nauseous feel now the adrenaline was beginning to ebb off.

“What have you done?”

The armor whirred as it turned towards the dark silhouette in the corner.

Even without the help of his HUD, Tony knew who it was. He was, however, taken aback by the fact that it was Bruce Wayne who stepped out of the shadows and not his alter ego. He swallowed at the open hostility that shone back at him. “What you couldn't do.” The Gothamite's lips thinned. “This doesn't make you better, this makes you just as bad.” He narrowed and averted his eyes. “A murderer.” Metal fists clenched.

“Oh yeah? By settling a personal score with the people who wanted to kidnap Dami, beat me to death, and who killed our son? Pardon me, but I think I did the right thing!” Bruce Wayne raised his head to look him in the eye. “He was never _our_ son. It was not your right to avenge his death with bloodshed.” At that, Tony took an actual step back in his indestructible armor, like he had been mortally hit.

“How can you – say that? How can you... stand there and look me in the eye and SAY THAT?”

His voice had risen to a shrill octave and got carried away by the wind. Tony then watched in stupefaction how Bruce turned around and proceeded to leave. His face contorted with incomprehension, despair, and rage. “No! FUCK! Don't WALK AWAY! Stay here!! BRUCE! STAY HERE AND TALK TO ME, GODDAMMIT!” With a pitched electronic whine, Tony raised a trembling gauntleted arm at the broad back of his husband.

The other man's steps did not falter. Only when a repulsor blast hit the ancient, fortified wall of the Manor, close to his head, Wayne stopped walking. When he looked over his shoulder, his eyes were cold and lifeless.

“There is nothing more to say.”

 


	57. Chapter 57

The little bell over the door jingled. Pepper's head shot up from where she had listlessly browsed a random gossip magazine. Each time the door went in the past fifteen minutes, it had been someone else. The person who now stepped into the cozy and rustic coffee shop in Greenwich Village finally was the one she had been waiting for. The tattered magazine landed back on the pile of papers to her left.

“Tony!”

She got up from her bar stool with difficulty at the small space between her seat and the table. He pulled off his shades and embraced her with vigor. Up close, Pepper saw the dark circles underneath his eyes. “You look tired.” The smile that formed on his lips was soft but it did not light up the rest of his face. “Well, you look radiant.” Pepper brushed down her flowy dress and gave an embarrassed little chuckle.

“Thanks for lying to my face.” He tsked. “No, I'm serious.” At her forwarding motion, Tony put his right hand on her arm. “Stay put, coffee's on me today. Any specific wishes?” They both glimpsed at the large chalk-written blackboard over the counter. “A Mocha medium. Decaf, please.” He nodded and strolled over to place their orders. Sitting back down, Pepper reached for her purse before she watched him from afar.

Tony wore a casual but expensive-looking hooded sweater jacket atop a white shirt, slim denims, and a pair of high-top sneakers. He seemed thinner than the last time they had met, with his hair longer than usual, and his trimmed goatee replaced by a five o'clock shadow version. When he returned to their counter-height table at the window, two bulbous mugs in hand, an oblong wrapped in shiny paper stood waiting for him.

He gave a small, embarrassed chuckle. “You shouldn't have.” Pepper tsked. “What friend do you think I am? Happy birthday. Speaking of which - Happy sends his regards, too.” Tony pushed the sugar dispenser out of the way with an elbow. “Thanks. Yeah, I got his text this morning. And Rhodey's, though it was technically before midnight. Why does he prefer to be sent to the shittiest, middle-of-nowhere places on earth?”

Pepper smiled. “Flyboy for life.” She nudged the gift into his direction. “Aren't you going to open it up?” He humored her by tugging at the wrapping bow and tearing into the paper until a French press in copper tones gleamed back at him. “Oh, hey, neat. I'm actually missing one of these in my apartment.” It brought them right to the issue at hand, and Pepper leaned forward, making no effort to hide her curiosity any longer.

“When you texted me you were in town, I hardly believed it. We haven't seen each other since your wedding, and now you're... here.” His eyes darted from her present to the hustle and bustle of the city outside before he reached for his coffee. “See, it only took a good deal on a furnished condo in Midtown for me to come home.” Tony tried for humor, but the way he stirred his cappuccino with solemn eyes said otherwise.

“Feels strange to be back, though. Also, rent control really is an alien concept for Manhattan, geez Louise.” Pepper tilted her head. “How long has this been going on?” His idle stirring continued. “Moved in about three weeks ago.” He did not raise his head and busied himself bending the small wooden stirring stick back and forth instead. Pepper made a small noise of disdain at his lame subterfuge. “Not that.” She saw his jaw work.

“Tony. It's me you're talking to.”  
  
The stick in his hand snapped in half with a soft crunch. “Close to six weeks.” It was a mere whisper, and his brows furrowed just as Pepper inhaled with something akin to utter shock. “How, I mean, you're not-” Her eyes fell on his left hand, searching for a ring and finding none. “Or are you? God, Tony, are you di...?” He was quick to shake his head and put the broken stick halves aside.

“He didn't file a divorce. Thought he would. Maybe all the hassle regarding the company and the boys wasn't his cup of tea. What do I know. We're on incommunicado ever since.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee and Pepper decided to do the same. “And... - the boys?” Tony's fingers flexed around the mug. “They're angry. Understandably so. Blocked me so I can't text them. Guess I deserved that.”

Licking her lip clean of cocoa, Pepper put the glass down. “I just don't understand how things could have ever come this far. What on earth has happened?” His right hand covered the back of hers. “Too much to put it into a halfway sensible context. Sorry, Pep, I love you, but I can't do the couch-therapy-thingy here and now. I just... can't.” The redhead pondered his evasive answer for the longest time. “But do you still lo--”  
  
Tony's fiery brown eyes shot up. “With all my heart!” His intensity surprised them both. With a lopsided smirk, he reached below his crewneck t-shirt until she could see a ring dangling from a silver chain. “Most days, I still don't fully feel the fingers of my left hand. Figured I'd wear it somewhere close to my heart instead.” Pepper put a hand on his arm, squeezing just enough to make him feel it through the fabric.

“You've never really told me how you've gotten injured so badly. All these secrets, Tony. Why.” A sad smile. “Cause it's not a pretty story, and I've moved on since then. In...- well, in more ways than expected, actually.” She took another sip of her Mocha and looked into the swirl of cocoa, espresso, and milk for the longest time. “If you still love him, if you are still married - why don't you go see him? What are you waiting for?”

His shoulders slumped as he sighed. A sturdy finger then began to draw circles on the dark wood of the table. “A sign from him that he still cares, maybe? I dunno. Bruce's never been good at that whole 'I have feelings and am actually able to talk about them' thing.” Pepper Hogan leaned back and watched how his fingers went over to drumming a nervous little melody into the table top.

“But you are. Good at that feelings thing I mean. Get over your pride and act out on it, Stark. If anything, do it for the kids because they are the ones suffering in the end.” Tony's brow arched. "Wow. Mother henning much?" At his sideways glance, she brushed a hand over her very round belly. “Yes. I'm telling you to better hurry up because this little girl here needs her two functioning godfathers in less than two months.”

At that, Tony's expression turned softer and more excited at the same time. “Do you have a name yet?” She smiled. “Yes, we do.” When nothing followed, he hummed. “Antonia is a great name.” A boop to his nose. “Thinks you.” They shared a look full of affection before Tony pursed his lips and reached for his coffee.

“Just saying.”

+

Back in his newly furbished apartment that overlooked a decent portion of Central Park, Pepper's gift got a place on the stylish but rather sterile designer kitchen counter. Tony fished for his phone and pulled up the latest text conversation of the little messaging group called 'Tony & His Critters'. It was over five weeks old, yet the double ticks behind his message had never shown up, neither on Tim's nor on Richard's account.

_The_Starkster 7:29 pm 'Swear to God I love you guys more than I can say, but I have to leave Gotham for a while'_

Opposed to his brothers, Tony had left Damian a hand-written note, pinned to the scary, Gothic-inspired mirror on his wall. He had even written his mobile number underneath, knowing fully well Damian knew it by heart. Having them openly avoid contact with him had almost driven Tony insane for the first two and a half weeks. He jerked out of his thoughts when the phone in his hand then started to vibrate and ring.

He swallowed and put the device to his ear. “Stark?” Using his birth name felt weird, but he was wary of the 'caller unknown' icon on his display. “Many happy returns, Master Anthony.” Pennyworth's voice sounded tinny and too far away. Tony wanted to exhale but it turned into a half-sob. “Thanks, Al.” His eyes closed for a few heartbeats as he listened to the butler's breathing. “I hope you are well, Sir, despite the circumstances.”

“I've--,” Tony's throat constricted. “Been better.” He cleared it several times, trying to think of what to say. “How are you and the boys? How is... he?” The butler allowed a sigh to make it through the receiver. “I would like to give you a more heartening answer, but Wayne Manor is nothing but a vestige of happier times.” Tony walked through his apartment and leaned a shoulder against a ceiling window to watch the skyline.

“Kinda feared you'd say that.” He inhaled, held his breath, and exhaled through the mouth in one sharp gust. “Tell me. Please.”

Background noises like doors opening and closing told him Alfred had relocated to somewhere private. “Ever since Master Jason's death, Master Bruce has not been himself. But ever since you left, his alcohol consumption has reached worrying levels, and I feel him slipping away from me and normal daily structures with each new day.” The butler paused to compose himself, and Tony felt the weight of a rock plummeting in his stomach.  
  
“Alfred, what can I do?”  
The butler took his time to answer. When he did, his voice was laced with suppressed tears.  
“Come home, Master Anthony. Come home.”  
  
+

After almost two months of separation and no contact, Tony Stark-Wayne went back to Gotham to see the man who was still his husband.

Alfred opened, looking more haggard and weathered than Tony remembered him to be. “Master Anthony.” Tony gave a hesitant little smile and forced himself to stop staring down at his shoes. “Still allowed to come in?” Pennyworth stepped aside and opened the door further. “To me, you always are. This house has never been the same after your departure.” A whiff of comforting, familiar smells hit Tony and he took a deep breath.

“His final words felt like I got sent into exile, I didn't-,” Tony dug his nails into his palms. “Didn't know if I was welcome around here ever again.”  
  
The butler sighed as he bolted the door shut behind him. “Those obstinate ways of his tend to make for the worst decisions in his life.” Tony shrugged out of the backpack he had brought along. “Is he here?” A nod. “The library.” A spurt of adrenaline made Tony blow out his cheeks and run a hand through his hair. “Any good advice?” Pennyworth took his bag and bowed his head. “You will find the right words.”

The ancient library smelled of leather, cold ash from the unlit fireplace, and faint bourbon.

Tony lingered in the doorway, eyes fastened on the hunched back of a man in a bathrobe who stood by the window.

“Bruce.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pepper's birthday gift:  
> https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/bodum-eileen-8-cup-french-press/4454373


	58. Chapter 58

Said man turned into his direction. When their eyes met, Wayne looked at him as if he had seen a ghost. His hair was too scraggly to be deemed appropriate for a man of his status, and he appeared to be in dire need of a shower and shave. Tony swallowed. “How... have you been?” At his question, Wayne barked out a bitter laugh. “How trivial.” He walked over to the house bar in the corner to pour himself a generous drink.

“Remember when you said you don't want us to part in anger, no matter what?” Bruce's voice was like steel as he pointed the brimful crystal tumbler at him. “Because I remember when I thought you meant it. Back then, I was inclined to believe you.” In stunned silence, Tony watched some of the liquor spill over and dribble onto the floor, right before Bruce tipped his head back and downed the whole contents in one sitting.

His eyes blazed with new-found fire as he slammed the glass down on the wooden surface. “However foolish that now seems.” Stark curled the fingers of his right hand. “It wasn't me who turned his back, Bruce. I wasn't me who...” He bit on the inside of a cheek, forcing himself not to pick up right where they had left off the last time. The ancient grandfather clock in the corner kept on ticking away through the silence.

Once it became clear Bruce was not going to offer an olive branch, Tony cleared his throat. “Pepper is pregnant with her first child. She's due sometime in summer.” Wayne's fingers clenched around the edge of the bar. “Congratulations.” He sounded harsh and resentful. Tony swallowed. “She wants us to be the godfathers of her daughter.” It prompted a snort full of scorn. “I'm no good with kids. Drove mine away or got 'em killed.”

His eyes flew over and out of the window, towards the hill and its willow tree. On shaking legs, Tony walked up to one of the Chesterfield sofas and inched onto its edge. “So has Richie's gotten into Princeton?” Bruce harrumphed and toyed with the glass drop of the crystal decanter, so Tony decided to press on. “Are he and Babs doing that LDR thing?” Another ill-tempered grunt. “I haven't spoken to Richard in weeks.”

Tony took that bit of information without an outward reaction. “... and Tim?” The Gothamite sealed the decanter with force. “Tim lives here. From time to time. Ever since he's got a girlfriend he's made himself scarce.” At that, Tony leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, intrigued. “A girlfriend? What's her name?”

“Stephanie Brown. They must have met at school.”

“Must have?”  
Bruce did not respond, busy fixating the liquor with dull eyes. Tony hummed.  
“So where's Dami?”

“Phillips Andover.”

“W--where?”

“The boarding school in Massachusetts.”  
Stupefaction crossed Tony's expressive countenance.  
“What? Since-- when?”

“Since he became too hard to handle for both me and Alfred.”

After a few heartbeats, Tony leaned back into the couch and covered his eyes with a palm. “Oh, God.” It got him a dissecting glare out of bloodshot, hazel eyes. “The further they stay away, the better. I'm not gonna lose another son the way I lost Jason.” Tony took his hand away and exhaled inaudibly. “We. We lost Jason.” Bruce's haggard features twisted with misery. “Stop pretending to care, Tony.”

That was when Stark jumped to his feet and pointed a finger at him. “No! YOU need to stop! Stop pushing me away because you don't want to face reality! Stop pushing them away, just because you are scared they will go and take up Jason's mantle.” In a fast move, Wayne hurled his empty tumbler against the opposite wall. “I am not going to lose another son that way!!” Tony watched the splinters scatter away on the wooden floors.

“But losing them this way is better? What a fucked up logic that is!”

Bruce braced both hands against the minibar and lowered his head, arms trembling. “Go. Leave me alone.” Tony swallowed and took down his arm. “Is that what you really want?” No answer. Stark watched those long, elegant fingers claw around the rim of the bar. Watched the ring that still sat on those long fingers, and knew the answer to his question. “Because I don't want to leave you alone, Bruce, you hear me? Never again.”

His voice lowered into whisper. “But only if you want to give this a chance. Us.” He could see the frown on Bruce's profile. “According to the marital property part of the prenuptial agreement, you are entitled to a permanent residence at the Manor.” Wayne's voice was detached and factual. It made Tony clench his jaw. “Screw the prenup - I don't give a damn about your any of your possessions! Do you want me to stay or not?”

Just when Tony thought he should turn around and leave, despite his heart threatening to tear out of his chest, Bruce gave a small nod, almost too easy to miss in the twilight of the approaching dusk.  


+

Aromatic smells from the kitchen lured Tony in around dinnertime. Alfred stood at the oven and stirred a big silver ladle inside a large pot filled with what seemed to be some sort of soup. “Smells delicious.” Tony's eyes flew out to where another heavy summery thunderstorm bent the trees and whipped rain against the windows. “And with that shitty excuse of summer outside, it's the perfect level of comfort food.”

Chopping sounds filled the air. “The weather forecast predicts a heat wave next week. It will turn Gotham into a sweltering pool of humidity soon enough.” Blowing out his cheeks, Tony sunk onto one of the wooden bar stools at the counter and watched him put a heaping cup of chopped carrots and red peppers into the pot. Watery blue eyes full of warmth cast him a glance. “I reckon you are staying for dinner, Sir?” A careful smirk.

“I reckon I'm staying for longer than that, Al.”

All professional, the butler kept his gaze focused on his tasks. “Do you want me to prepare the master bedroom accordingly?” Putting one elbow up on the counter, Tony supported his chin with a palm and regarded the imposing spice rack above the stove. “For now I think it's best if I sleep in my old room. Don't want to... rush things.” Alfred inclined his head. “Certainly, Master Anthony.” Tony drummed his fingers into his cheek.

“I mean I would totally go for the 'beep each other's brains out' method, but I don't think it's wise.”

“Your initial approach may be the most sensible idea. Especially considering Master Bruce's... other nightly activities.” That got Tony to stop smirking to himself and becoming downright attentive. “Are you... he's - he still dons the Batsuit, despite his drinking problem?” Pennyworth sighed all the while stirring the soup. “It is a miracle Master Wayne has not sustained fatal injuries yet. Sadly, I cannot seem to make him see reason.”

“There's always that next best luxury rehab. Which, I am surprised, he has not considered so far.” Alfred's motions stopped and he put the dripping ladle aside on a clean plate. “Some of Master Wayne's rather unhealthy coping mechanisms have made it into public. He keeps on arguing these helped to dissolve any speculation about the Batman's true identity.” Tony fought an urge to roll his eyes at Bruce's warped logic.

“Does the public know about Jason?”

Alfred's hand hovered over the oven knob for a split second. “It does not. Instead, it does know about the DUI and two misconducts at public functions, which have helped greatly in painting a fine picture of the feckless and misguided Prince of Gotham.” Pennyworth then went to get something from a cupboard, and Tony took the opportunity to lean flat across the counter to try and peek into the simmering swirl inside the pot.

“I reckon they are blaming his wayward spouse for this episode.” He had to draw back when the butler reclaimed his place at the stove and sprinkled salt into the pot. “People do have been questioning your absence and marital status ever since. It was a valid excuse to take and dissect Master Wayne's unsound public behaviorism.” Alfred then handed him a clean spoon and beckoned him over to give it a first taste.

After blowing on the steaming mouthful, Tony slurped around the silver spoon and made smacking noises. “Well, I am here now, and we'll get things back on track. Hopefully. Because all the money in the world apparently couldn’t help him or make him happy. I just have to figure out how am I supposed to. Easy.” One of Alfred's weathered hands found its way upon Tony's shoulder that had sagged with dejection.

“It is not money that Master Bruce needs, Sir. It is something much more essential than that.”  
Bobbing his head along, the shorter man eventually put the spoon aside.  
“More thyme.”

“Pardon me, Sir?”

“The soup. Not Bruce. Though, that theory needs to be tested.”

They shared a brief but sorely missed look of mischief.

+

Bruce did not show up for dinner. When Tony took a steaming bowl of vegetable soup with a freshly baked piece of bread on the side down into the cave, it was to the sight of his husband already dressed in most of his Batsuit. The cowl laid aside, together with the barbed gauntlets, next to a half-empty glass of hard liquor.

“You're... going out?”

Wayne grunted what constituted of an affirmative answer and finished off his drink before he headed for the Tumbler. At the small stumble in his stance, Tony bit his bottom lip and stepped closer. “Don't you want to eat something first?” He held up the tray as much as his still ailing shoulder allowed him to, hoping Bruce would take a look.

“No.”

“When are you going to be back?”

“Dunno.”

“Shall I wait up for you?”

“Whatever.”  
With a clatter, the tray landed on the inactive middle console where a digital map of Gotham could be displayed.  
“Fine, be that way!”

As soon as the roaring engines of the Tumbler had faded out, Tony put his arms akimbo and looked around the dark and gloomy premises. “Two can play that game, Mister.” He threw himself into a chair of ergonomic design with a high backrest. Opposed to a regular set of wheels at the bottom, it had an electric-controlled base. “Working knee-deep in batshit but getting fancy things for your heinie. Typical.”

Tony then stopped whirring back and forth to fetch a flash drive from his pocket.

As he bent down to connect two patch cables under the mainframe of the supercomputer, the ring on his chain broke free from the confines of his sweater and dangled in the air. Annoyed, Tony reached up and stuffed it back inside. He had very well seen the resentful glimpse Bruce had stolen at his ringless left hand; however, Wayne's ego had prevented him from asking. As matters stood, Tony was fed up enough to keep him guessing.

Tony then reached for his phone and loaded a coded application.

“Jarvis? You there?” Seconds later, a familiar voice echoed through the silence. “Hello, Sir. I can detect a strong proxy server presence and a powerful firewall. Allow me to try and connect.” Upon hearing his AI speak for the first time in days, Tony smiled at the very distinctive, British accent. He blamed choosing it on Alfred's good influence and the fact that he had been on the verge of losing his lonely mind in New York.

“Yeah, Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. Welcome to the Batcrib. Actually, we're just kind of visitors here for the moment, but I want you to start creating a triple security system around this network and its servers. Oh, and look into the logistical possibilities of installing a concealable platform and waterproof casing down here for me to suit up and stash my armor, will you.” 

“I will do my best, Sir, given the current infrastructural circumstances.”  
Tony stood up to retrieve the rejected bowl of soup and began to slurp his third helping.  
“Take your time, buddy, and remember to lay low.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After binging on and falling in love with Batman Telltale over the past two months, my mental image of Bruce's cave has now adapted the design from the game, which looks like this: 
> 
> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/telltalebatman/images/d/da/Batcave_%28Telltale%29.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/2000?cb=20171122103342
> 
> (... and also because the cave they showed in the Nolan trilogy gives me a bad case of the sads. It's just so barren and inept for regular Batman missions, smh)


	59. Chapter 59

Either Jarvis' stealth mode was exquisite, or Bruce simply did not care anymore to check the cave for foreign frequencies. In any case, it was as reckless a move as it was beneficial to Tony's clandestine implementation.

Not as clandestine was Tony's official return to Wayne Enterprises. Seeing Bruce Wayne preferred to spend his nights on rooftops and the days sleeping off his hangovers, his husband became immersed in many tasks which normally fell under Bruce's responsibility. After Alfred had gone and updated him on the recent turns and misconducts of Wayne's life, Lucius Fox welcomed Tony back with more than sincere relief.

Despite having an IQ higher than anyone at the company, Tony soon came to learn that being a genius did not automatically make you business savvy. If anything, it made Tony even more bored at the mediocrity of those 'business clowns' as he had labeled them. He oftentimes missed out on meetings due to being caught up in tinkering with his old R&D team. When his phone rang in the pocket of his lab coat, Tony already knew why.

"Tony, the CFO wants to know whether we plan on buying the Kordtronics division from Kord Industries.” Phone wedged between shoulder and ear, Stark kept on wrestling with a wire crimper on a stubborn patch of cables. “Uhhh, okay. Kordtronics. Sounds... legit. Or not? How much, uh, moolah are we talking here?” On the other end, Fox could be heard flipping a page. “$ 2.5 million. Net worth. Probably close to $ 3.9 million.”

“Yikes!”  
At his small yelp, Lucius chuckled.  
“It's not that bad. It's a small division.”

Tony pulled a face and suckled on his mangled thumb. “No, I just dropped the.... nevermind. Lou, I honestly have no idea. I'll leave it up to you if that's alright. Do what you think Bruce would want us to do.” A pause, followed by a small sigh. “I'm not really of much help, huh? If you were to ask me whether we need a solar-thermal propulsion system, I'd say heck yeah, go for it, but... this...”

“Don't worry, Tony, I got this. I will get back to you on the final decision once I spoke with the CFO.”  
  
While Lucius was there to try and shoulder the load of an entrepreneurial world foreign to him, it ultimately meant days of overtime hours during which Tony would be unable to keep an eye on Bruce's alcohol intake. Alfred tried his best to make sure to keep the Manor free of liquid temptations, but Bruce was still Bruce.

One night, Tony got home around 10:30, tired after a long day of discussing R&D budgets, and feeling like his shirt had melted into his skin at the still stifling hot temperatures in the upper 80. At the sight of an anxious Alfred Pennyworth at the Manor's entrance door, a spike of adrenaline rushed in and made him instantly alert. “Al? What happened?” The butler looked downright miserable. 

“I tried to argue with him, Sir, but he must have been drinking for the most part of the day because he was quite... aggressive.” A lump manifested in Tony's throat. “Since when?” He looked at his Rolex the same time the butler took out his pocket watch. “45 minutes since his departure.” Brown eyes darted from the butler to the windows and back. “He can't be that far. I'll bring him home, Al, don't worry.”

A hand landed on his arm. “Be careful, Master Anthony. Master Bruce is truly not himself at the moment.” Tony patted his hand and strode past him, yanking off his tie in the process with a feral grin. “Think I've developed a very efficient method to deal with overgrown, rabid rodents.” Before he disappeared in the salon of the piano room, he turned around one last time. “And tonight, I am in a mood to test them out.”

+

“Target located.”

Jarvis' factual voice echoed through his HUD as Iron Man approached Uptown Gotham and its many skyscrapers. Tony squinted at the dark-clad figure high upon the rooftop of a nearby bank institute. “Any sign he noticed us yet?” As if on cue, static interrupted his AI's potential answer. Tony gritted his teeth. “Guess that means yes.” He was quick to cross the distance over to where the dark knight crouched in the shadows.

“What the hell you think you're doing here?” Bruce was in Batman mode but his voice seemed slightly impaired. The scan Tony made Jarvis run to estimate his breath alcohol content came away at .14%, causing him to do a double take. “Goddammit.” Iron Man then made a move to reach for a black Kevlar-lined arm. “Was just about to ask you the same thing. We're leaving. And if you play nice then I'll play nice.”

Despite his intoxication, Bruce was strong enough to withstand the tug. His eyes narrowed to slits behind the cowl. “Hands off.” The growl held a malevolent tone. There was a low, humming sound, followed by a sudden darkness, and Tony found he was unable to move. “Jarvis?!” It took several seconds until his AI was back online. “An EMP wave has caused a partial shutdown on the electronics of the suit. Recovery time: 8 seconds.”

As he got back to his feet, unharmed and cursing up a string, Tony scanned his surroundings. "Okay, buddy, now you've done it. You went and pissed me off. So much for playing nice." The crosshairs of his HUD were still recalibrating. “Jarvis - locate him. Repulsor tasers ready and at full capacity. Let him feel a little more than a tickle.” A flicker on his display showed movement at the edge of the roof. Tony raised his arm and fired.

The blast grazed the Batman's shoulder, sending him into a stumble, though he remained upright. He tried to turn it into a controlled jump off the roof, drawing his grapple gun. Tony felt the seconds tick by in slow motion as the grapple hook bounced off the safety anchor on the wall across from them without latching on, leaving its owner to plummet and disappear down the dark void between the narrow concrete canyon.

Just before he could end up as a dark splatter on concrete, iron gripped his wrist.  
  
+  
  
Without preamble and effort, the armor hurled the 200 lbs of deadweight, slack muscle into the basic shower stall in the cave. A gauntleted hand turned the temperature to ice cold and switched the shower on until a forceful stream of water hailed down on the unmoving heap seconds later, draining his techno-mesh undersuit in no time. It brought the man on the floor around as he grunted and tried to shift and crawl away.

He did not get very far, seeing the cabin was small and its exit blocked by a 6'6 humanoid. The faceplate came up to reveal Tony's furious countenance. “Stay down. Final warning.” Nevertheless, Bruce got to his knees, albeit unsteady. “No more patrols. For as long as I say. I'll have a lockdown on your gear.” At that, Wayne snorted out. It fueled Tony's ire and made him curl an iron fist into the front of Bruce's soaked suit.

“I'm serious! You could've died out there tonight, you goddamn, egoistical fucker!” He yanked him up until they were face to face. Wayne squinted out from plastered hair all over his forehead and rivulets of water running down his face. “Leggo.” It came out as a slurred syllable and prompted Tony to shake him hard several times. “Just try me, punk - you don’t know what I’ll do to you if you dare to so much as look at that suit!”

His voice was like steel. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and, once Tony released him, crumpled into a boneless heap. He laid face-down at the bottom of the shower for several minutes, cold water mercilessly raining down on him, until he rolled onto his side and pushed himself up on a shaking elbow. Faint muttering erupted, which made Tony frown and lean in closer. "What was that?"

Instead of an answer, Bruce began to vomit into the drain, his whole body racked by heavy spasms.

Swearing out under his breath, Tony turned the temperature from frigid to tepid, hit by a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. He was unable to provide further assistance in his massive armor and waited until the painful retching eventually subsided. As soon as it had turned into dry hacking, Tony hunkered down and reached for the heaving body. Most of his anger had evaporated, leaving him strung out, anxious, and desperate at once.

“Let's get you dried up and into bed.”

He was more gentle that time as he picked Bruce's sodden and limp figure up from under his armpits. Tony shifted until his arms could reach under Bruce's knees and around his back. For a moment, Wayne was coherent enough to mumble something under his breath that sounded like 'leave me there' or 'leave me alone'. Mouth grim, Tony fastened his hold. “No can do. Enjoy the bridal carry while it lasts.”

By the time they had made it upstairs, leaving huge, wet footprints all over the floors, Bruce was out cold.

+

A little after 7 am, Alfred entered the master bedroom to find his unconscious protege buried under the covers. Tony lay next to him on his side, arm propped up, and turned to look over his shoulder. He held up a finger to his lips and Alfred walked up soundlessly to the bed to put the tray with a glass of fresh orange juice aside. They gestured along until Tony slipped off the bed with as little movement as possible.

Wayne grunted, once, but turned around on his side, his back on them, and remained asleep. As soon as he had shut the door behind them, Tony allowed a huge sigh to escape his lips. “If I hadn't been there last night... God, Al, he... I...” He gave a hopeless laugh and shook his head. “Are we sure this house isn't haunted and wanting to fill up that fucking graveyard on the hill or something?”

Pennyworth did not reply but, judging by the look on his face, understood what he was saying. “The chances of Master Wayne willingly looking into the AA or other institutions are...” Tony nodded along, equally morose. “Next to none, I'd assume.” Alfred clasped his hands behind his back. “Taking his previous, peak condition into account, I assume Master Bruce would be able to bounce back on his own, given the proper – incentive.”

The butler looked at the closed door again. “Provided of course that he really wants to. And that he does not keep on mingling his two... addictions.” Tony pursed his lips. “He's not going out there for a while. You have my word. No more Batman gigs until he's dealt with his drinking problem.” Relief lurked behind Pennyworth's blue eyes. “Now, I am most curious as to how you plan to archive that.”

Tony closed his eyes, pushed away the horrific mental images of Bruce's near-deadly fall last night, and smirked with more bravery than he felt as he reopened them. “Got my ways. Best if we get Lou in the know, too.” Alfred nodded. “Consider it taken care of, Sir.”

+

Hours later, Wayne showed the first real signs of waking. He realized he was laying naked under a pile of blankets, most of which were clammy and stuck to his skin. Despite the throbbing behind his temples, he took stock of his surroundings and soon discovered a person lounging on the vintage sofa next to the windows. Tony sat with his back to him, feet atop the armrest, some sort of digital pad in his hands.

“Good afternoon. Coffee, tea, water, juice? Not an either-or option, by the way, you're gonna drink 'em all, you just get to pick in which order.”

His voice sounded charming and caustic at the same time, and he made no move to grace him with a look. Bruce swallowed and cleared his throat against its scratchy and acidic feel. “C-coffee.” It prompted the other man to swing his legs to the floor, put the pad aside, and get up. There was the sound of liquid running into a cup, then a fine china appeared under Bruce's nose.

He wrinkled his nose when the first whiff of the strong beverage hit his nostrils but obediently took it. Bruce squinted up to finally be able to look at him, but Tony turned around and pulled the heavy curtains open with such a garishly loud sound that it made the Gothamite drop his head to his chest and turn away from the light with a groan.

“Black should be best for any kind of hangover you might have. Provided you have one. You'd better have one, honestly. Because if not, we'll have to seriously consider donating what's left of your liver to the National Institute of Health. I haven't yet ruled out the anomaly of you not being entirely human, to be honest.”

Head buzzing from Tony's motormouth, Bruce pressed his lips together and took the tongue-lashing as straight-faced and composed as possible for a man of his condition. When he dared to take a small sip, his stomach instantly began to churn at the slightest amount of caffeine. He squinted at Tony's silhouette against the light and coughed. “Maybe this isn't... could I get w-water first?”

There was no answer, so Bruce shifted upward, ready to switch drinks on the nearby nightstand himself. His hands shook and it resulted in sloshing a fair amount of hot brown liquid over the rim and onto his eiderdown blanket. Suppressing a curse, he tried to still the motion until the cup got taken from his hands.

“Don't fret, you need to get up and take a real shower anyhow. These sheets are drenched in sweat. Which is actually a good thing. Hey, maybe we could make you stay in the sauna for several days to help with your detoxing program.” With a vexed expression, Bruce wiped his fingers into the already ruined covers. Anger managed to override his state of physical and mental agony. “Stop it, I get the message.”

That was when Tony Stark leaned in until their faces were only inches apart. “Oh, but do you, Bruce? Do you really?” At the short distance, Bruce could see the lines around his husband's eyes. “I...” Tony's large brown eyes blazed with barely contained anger and pent-up frustration. Swallowing hard, Bruce snapped his mouth shut and broke the flippant stare-down. “Are you finally willing to stop drinking for good?”

A nod.  
Tony mimicked it and straightened up, clapping his hands once, sharp and loud enough for Bruce to wince again.  
“Sweet. Because I am super, super done covering for your sorry ass at those godawful boring board meetings!”

Out on the corridor, and only as soon as he was sure Bruce was in the shower, Tony let out a huge sigh. “One down, many more to go.” He reached for his mobile, slipped a bluetooth headset into one ear, and opened the secured application. “Looks like you and I are gonna have to keep an eye out on the city for a while, pal.” Jarvis' artificial, if still reassuring answer, was immediate.

“Scanning the GCPD communication channels as we speak, Sir.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info on the Kordtronics takeover courtesy of:  
> http://batman.wikia.com/wiki/Wayne_Enterprises 
> 
> Info about the effects at certain blood alcohol levels taken from here:  
> http://www.brad21.org/effects_at_specific_bac.html


	60. Chapter 60

The heat wave held Gotham in a tight grip before it died out in a series of severe thunderstorms and heavy tempests. Tony blamed the change in weather conditions and temperatures for the rise in Bruce's flaring episodes of migraines. The only good thing that stemmed from his ailment was that Wayne willingly remained in bed, rendered immobile by nausea and crippling bouts of vertigo.

Duty called, in form of Jarvis' notifications about potential mayhem in Gotham, and Tony left his husband in Alfred's capable hands. An hour into patrolling, just when Tony was debating with himself whether to try out his new repulsor taser guns on two shady guys loitering around a small convenience store in Cobble Hill, Jarvis, who had been programmed to keep an eye out for Bruce, spoke up.

“Sir, Mister Wayne is currently experiencing symptoms connected to the withdrawal and detoxing process of his body. His heart rate is elevated, as is his blood pressure. Both vitals keep on increasing at short intervals.” Alarmed, Tony abandoned his cat-and-mouse game and left the rest to a soon-to-arrive GCPD patrol. “Is there any trigger for that episode? He was doing okay when I left, apart from his headache I mean.”

He was already up in the air, setting the course for the Palisades. “The sudden cessation of drinking after a time of drinking heavily might have exacerbated the issue at hand, Sir.” Tony cursed himself for not looking into those possibilities earlier and increased his velocity. Ten minutes later, Tony shed his suit and hurried to make it upstairs. When he arrived, Bruce was sitting up in bed in between rumpled sheets, holding his head.

Alfred was in and out of his room, bringing along cold rags, tea, and water, and whatever he thought could pass for a remedy. Still in his undersuit, Tony took a seat next to him on the mattress, uncaring about the smell from his previous labor. “Bruce, hey. I'm here. It's okay.” He put a tender hand on a bare forearm, feeling the tremors running through Bruce's body. Wayne raised his head to squint at him.

“Why are you here? I messed up the wedding.”

Tony's brows crinkled. “What-?” Bruce's eyes were feverish, his pupils dark and dilated. “I understand you don't want to marry me anymore. I'm no good. I let my parents die. Can't protect anyone. You need to be safe, Tony. I cannot keep you safe. Promise you still visit the boys from time to time.” He drew up a shaky smile that was warped around the edges. “Would've been all I wanted. You and I. But I messed up. Forgive me.”

The shaking got worse and had him shiver all over his body, including his teeth chattering. Confusion mingled with despair even if Tony kept a brave facade, stroked his husband's cheek, and coaxed him into lying down again. A palm to Bruce's forehead revealed it was too hot to the touch. As soon as he was outside the room, door ajar, Tony consulted his AI via his phone. “Jarvis, what on earth is wrong with him?”

“Mister Wayne is hallucinating. In context with alcohol withdrawal, the symptom is called delirium tremens.”

“Any ideas on how to bring him out of it?”

“Symptoms peak at 24 to 72 hours and improve by a week. Typical treatment of alcohol withdrawal consists of administering chlordiazepoxide or diazepam. It is also recommended to administer a high intake of Thiamine, look out for a proper water-electrolyte balance, and avoid low blood sugar levels at all costs.” Alfred startled at the voice coming from Tony's mobile device but was quick to get the gist of it.

“I will see what we can do.”

During the next hours, Wayne experienced severe uncontrollable tremors of his extremities, up to the point where Tony seriously considered putting on his suit again just to be able to hold him down. Only the episodes of paranoia Bruce was caught up in made him discard his idea after Jarvis warned him about the critical risk of seizures. Caught up in lucid dreams, Wayne then spoke about the night his parents were shot down. 

Tony sat by his side, Alfred on the other, both listening in anguish as he relived detached but horrendously vivid details of blood splattering all over his face and the cobblestones in Crime Alley, and how his fingers were slicked crimson from his mother's throat. They took turns cooling off his arms and legs with cold rags in an attempt to bring down the fever, seeing Bruce could not keep anything down, least of all medication.

When his fever finally broke in the early morning hours, an exhausted Tony dared to fall asleep in an uncomfortable, bent-over position close to Bruce's shoulder. He woke with a stiff neck at a warm hand on his shoulder. “Master Anthony.” Raising his head and rubbing a palm over his face, Tony glimpsed at Bruce's serene, deeply asleep features. “Tem... temperature?” The butler pulled the sheets around his protege a bit higher.

“100.6 for the past hour.”

Tony gave a soundless exhale of relief and shuffled to his feet. “When he wakes, tell him I'll be back in before dinner.” Alfred stopped collecting stale towels and looked at him. “What should I tell him when he asks where you are?” With one last, loving glance over to the man in the bed, Tony squared his aching shoulders.  
  
“That I am working on making things right.”

+

Phillips Andover was a 4-hour drive from Gotham. Tony chose his fairly neglected R8 for the trip and made it in less than 2.5 hours. He also made sure to hold up a very visible victory sign whenever he assumed he zoomed past speed trap installations. Least he could do was make sure Bruce would get some nice pictures. The boarding school welcomed him with a quaint landscape and free parking lots.

“Afternoon. I am here to see Damian Wayne.”

The receptionist looked at the man standing before her in his leather jacket, ripped jeans, and tinted shades. “There are no visitors allowed during active lesson periods, Mister...” He gave her his best dimple-filled, charming smile. “... Stark-Wayne. Tony Stark-Wayne. I am Damian's father.” The lady in her late-forties adjusted her reading glasses. “Pardon me, Sir, but a Mister Bruce Wayne is...”

“... my husband, yes. The man who signs the big fat paychecks for this school each month. He's a very busy man, too, so, yeah, sorry for the inconvenience, but it's really important that I get to talk to our son. Family business.” He convinced her by showing her his ID and complimenting her on the lovely color of her eyes and on her earrings.

Once the boy in question rounded the corner and saw his visitor, he stopped dead in his tracks. From the look and the body language of the 9-year-old, Tony knew he would have to work hard on regaining his trust. “Hey-hey. Surprise visit.” He went for an uplifting voice and a grand gesture of spreading his arms wide. Damian remained where he was, looking like a wild animal ready to flee.

Tony lowered his arms and took a few slow steps in his direction. When Damian did not turn around to run away, Tony snatched his shades off at the same time he went down to hunker in front of the boy on one knee. “Hey, champ. Good to see you.” No reply but a sinister glower out of bright green eyes. Tony wet his lips and glimpsed over to the reception. “You and I can talk like adults, can't we?” A faint nod.

“Good. Let's go somewhere the dragon at the gate cannot watch us all the time.”

He got back up, refrained from making a move to try and take Damian's hand, and walked outside. Footsteps behind him indicated he was being followed. They walked along tidy campus grounds, gravel crunching under their feet. Once he was sure there was no one eavesdropping on them, Tony slipped his sunglasses back on and cleared his throat. “You first. Shoot.” Damian stopped at a bench facing the memorial bell tower.

“Why have you left us?”

Tony motioned for him to have a seat. “Your dad and I had problems. It seemed a good idea to put a bit of space between us for a while, but I never wanted to take this out on any of your backs.” Damian's feet dangled in mid-air. “One more reason for me to hate him.” At the conviction in his voice, Tony swallowed. “Now, Dami, we both know that's not true. You love him just like he loves you from the bottom of his heart."

From the corner of his eye, Tony saw him clench his hands into fists. “He wouldn't have put me in here if he did. He hates me, and I hate him.”

“Your dad saved our lives when we got attacked. He would give his life for any of you in an instant, but he's not doing so well lately, and..."

“That's because Jason's death was his fault.”

“Actually, that,” Tony gripped the wooden planks. “Is not true.” Damian's sharp green eyes turned to slits. “Is, too! I hate him because he tore our family apart.” In a swift motion, Tony snatched off his shades and dug thumb and index finger into his eye sockets. “Then you gotta hate me as well, Dami, because I'm responsible for putting your mother behind bars.” The boy averted his gaze to frown at the ground. “I don't understand.”

Putting his glasses back on, Tony leaned forward. “She played a big part in what happened to us at the fairgrounds, and later on was-- involved in what happened to Jason.” Damian Wayne said nothing for a while. Tony threw him a cautious glance. “All of us have to cope with what horrible things have happened, and no one expects you to forgive and forget. Just know that we are working on making it right again. Your dad and I."

Damian did not comment. Just when Tony figured he needed to say something, the boy hopped off the bench. “I gotta go back.” Tony fought down his disappointment and also got to his feet. “Of course.” His son squinted at him. “Can you come back here? Tomorrow?” Stark swallowed and tried to put up a confident stance. “I'll speak to your teachers. Maybe you could come home for the weekend, hm?" Damian's face darkened.  
  
“No, just come back here. Tomorrow.”  
He made a spitting gesture into his palm and held it out. Tony took it without hesitation.  
“Deal.”

+

As soon as he was back at the Palisades, this time making it under two hours, Tony left the R8 in favor of his bike. He rode it until he did not feel his legs anymore and his left arm was numb. Sweat mingled with tears, but at the end, the whirling thoughts stopped raging in his head. Alfred told him Bruce had been briefly awake, managed to keep down a small portion of food, but had drifted off to sleep again soon after.

Tony thus ate with the butler in the kitchen, not wanting to be alone in the huge and formal dining room.

 


	61. Chapter 61

Later that evening, way past suppertime, there was a curt knock on Tony's door. Stark looked up from his place on the couch. “Come in.” The door opened and Bruce paused in its doorway, handle in hand. His hair was tousled and he was dressed in a bathrobe thrown over his pajamas, looking at the book in Tony's hands. “I see that you are busy.” Tony was quick to snap the orange-colored tome in his hands shut.

“Nono, please, come in, I was actually just done looking at most fancy books in here.” He shifted into an upright position. “Can't believe I actually bought a book called,” A twist revealed its title. “The World Atlas of Whiskey.” The irony of the situation hit him as soon as the words left his mouth. Bruce hovered in the doorway with an air of apprehension, so Tony was quick to slip the book out of sight, at the bottom of the pile.

Wayne slipped his hands into the pockets of his robe. “You didn't. It was a gift. I had Alfred put it in here because it seemed... appropriate.” Tony arched an eyebrow. “A gift? From whom?” Bruce stared down at the carpet with a fervent intensity. “Lex Luthor.” Something on Tony's face shifted. “Oh.” Bruce's ongoing inspection of his socket-clad feet made Tony fumble for and launch into an explanation he had deemed unnecessary before.

“He did try to get back in my good graces, y'know? At the convention in Boston. Smarmy bastard.”

Hazel eyes briefly flickered up. “I know, I... I saw the pictures.” His voice was scratchy, and Tony saw both hurt and insecurity looming behind his indifferent facade as he cleared his throat. Tony then stood up to plant himself right in front of his brooding physique. “Come in. Please.” He reached out to tug one of Bruce's hands free from the confines of his pocket. It prompted Wayne to give up his internal struggle and step inside.

Closing the door behind them, Bruce slid into the far corner of the sofa opposite of Tony and sat there, ramrod straight and looking uncomfortable. For a while, Tony watched him fiddle with his thumbs; a gesture he normally not associated with Bruce. “Everything okay? Do you feel... better?” Thin lips quirked. “Trickiest part of the day.” Embarrassment swung within his quiet admission but his husband nodded in understanding.

“So let's find a way to occupy your mind otherwise. A round of Uno maybe?” The barest hint of a smile ghosted over Bruce's bearded face. “No, thanks.” Tony hummed. “Any other game you'd prefer?” Wayne negated with a shake of the head. “Just sit with me for a while.” Tony obliged by reaching for the nearby quilted blanket and unfolded it under Bruce's watchful eyes. “Always get cold hands and feet these days.”

Tony pulled a face at his own words. “Guess that means I'm really getting old, huh.” The blanket was big enough to cover them both, and Tony extended his legs with care. They bumped against Bruce's thighs, and after a few seconds, the Gothamite lifted his own feet off of the ground and imitated his husband's seating position. Facing each other, Tony snuggled a little deeper into the sofa. “This is nice.”

A small yawn escaped his lips, despite his tries to hold it in. “Sorry. Must've been all that fresh air today.” In the dim light of the reading lamp, he saw Bruce's head move. “You can take a nap, I don't mind.” The gears in Tony's mind began to turn. “Nono, I'm not gonna fall asleep on you. Hey, how about you talk to me? Tell me whatever is on your mind. No filter, just straight off the press.”

Bruce put an elbow up on the headrest and cast his eyes out to where clouds traveled across the sky. “I am tired as well.” His tone spoke of finality. Deciding there was no use to nag him if he wanted him to stay, Tony settled for watching the well-known profile for the longest time until his eyelids grew heavy. When he woke a little later, bleary-eyed after having fallen asleep curled up on the couch, Bruce was gone.

However, Tony found himself tightly tucked into all of the blanket, especially his feet.

They were warm.

+

Damian Wayne got summoned out of the mass hall after lunch.

He followed along with eager anticipation, though keeping his usual sourly expression firmly in check. Upon seeing a sports car outside the boarding school premises, his steps quickened even if he did not break out in a run. Tony stood leaning against the passenger side of a silver BMW M6, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. He pushed himself off the car and met his son halfway.

As expected, Damian did not initiate a hug but also did not complain about Tony pulling him close either. "Why didn't you bring your own car?" With his right arm around Damian's shoulders, Tony then got into a squat and put up a conciliatory smile. "Guess who's also come along today. Here's a hint: You two share the same frown lines between your brows.” In an instant, the eerily familiar scowl was back on the boy's face.

He shuffled out of Tony's semi-embrace. “I don't want to see him.” Tony pointed over at the BMW. “Well, he's right there, so you've now seen him.” With a sinister glare, Damian turned around on his heel and stormed off into the courtyard. Glimpsing back and motioning for Bruce to stay put, Tony took up his pursuit until he caught one of his fleeting son's sleeves. “Let me go!” Tony frowned at the intensity in his voice.

“Heyheyhey, Dami, c'mon, hey – wait up!”

The boy freed himself with a strong pull and twist. “No! He's the one who put me here, it's all his fault I don't want to see him!” Tony skipped forward until he was able to step in his way and stop his steps. “Now, now, Sport, we've had this before. Your dad's been sick and he didn't want to burden you with it.” Damian stopped trying to walk away, but his arms came up to protect his chest. "I don't care." 

Tony stepped up behind him and put his palms left and right on a small shoulder with a sigh. "Ahh, here's where I think you're wrong, Mini-Me. You do care, you just don't like that you care." He gave a gentle squeeze as he felt his son hunch his shoulders. "I thought we could maybe drive over to Cows Rock ice cream? They've got a flavor called Green Monster, and it made me instantly think you'd like to try that."

Damian's nostrils flared.

After fifteen minutes, Tony returned from the courtyard alone and walked over to where the BMW Grand Coupe stood waiting. The passenger door was open, but Bruce sat inside, still buckled up and not meeting his gaze. Tony slid into the driver's seat and ran his tongue over his lips. “It doesn't seem like – uh, today's not a good day I think.” Wayne's eyes narrowed, even if he did not raise his head to look at his husband.

“I see.”  
Taking his eyes off of the dark screen of the middle console, Bruce reached for the door and pulled it shut.  
“Get going.”

Tony saw the way his hands turned into fists in his lap to prevent the small tremors from showing.

+

Once they returned to the Manor, it was raining. Bruce headed off towards upstairs as soon as Tony had parked the BMW in its usual spot in the garage. Deciding to give him a little space, Tony headed for the kitchen, in the mood for something sugary. Voices inside could be heard, and when he entered, it was to a familiar face.

“Timmy!”

The boy looked up from where he had just poured cereal into a bowl for the girl sitting at the kitchen island. His expression went from shock to disbelief to utter relief in a matter of seconds. Tony spread his arms without thinking, and before he knew it, the boy flung himself at him.

“Valde te desidero!” [I miss you very much]  
It was said with a hitch in Tim's voice. Tony's eyes closed while he held him tight.  
“Semper domum ad vos redibo.” [I will always come home to you]

 


	62. Chapter 62

After a few seconds, Tim broke their embrace and gnawed on his bottom lip. “We were actually about to head out to the movies real soon.” It sounded a bit miserable and apologetic. Tony was quick to wave him off. “Hey now, that's totally fine. I'm back and I plan on staying. Things will fall back into place over time. Hopefully.” He peeked at the unknown face of a blonde girl who had watched them interact with curious eyes.

“Now where are your manners, Timbo, letting that beautiful lady hover over there instead of introducing us.” It was meant to be cheeky and to go with it, Tony went around the massive kitchen island block and extended a hand. “Hi, I'm Tony. You must be Stephanie.” As soon as she reached out to take it, he indicated a kiss on the back of her hand. She blushed with a laugh. “Nice to meet you, Sir.”

It made Tony clutch at his heart with an agonized moan. “Sir! Ohh boy, now I feel old. Do I look old, Timmy? Your lady just put a good 20 years on me. It's the beard, isn't it?” He looked at her stunned expression with twinkling eyes. “Imma call you Steph whether you like it or not, so you might as well go and call me Tony.” Her lips formed a slow grin. “Sure okay.” She took his invitation for a high-five before Tony looked at his son again.

“Hey, I know it's a little early but you guys are coming over for the holidays, right? Both Thanksgiving and Christmas.” When Tim nodded, Tony looked at Stephanie. “You averse to fake turkey? We've got a raging vegetarian in our midst. In my defense, he's from Bruce's side of the family.” She shook her head, making Tony rub his palms. “Excellent. Tim-Tim will text you the details as soon as the final AHS is confirmed."

"AHS?"  
Both Tim and Tony answered her in unison.  
"Alfred Holiday Schedule.”

After fist-bumping with his son, Tony headed for the fridge and got himself a soda. He drummed his fingers upon the lid and eyed the boy who still looked at him as if he did not believe what he was seeing. “Have you been in touch with Richie by any chance? Is he alright?" A nod. “He's at the uni or at Barbara's place.” The soda can opened with a soft sizzle. “Figured as much. Apart from that? He and Bruce-?”

Tony made a wobbly gesture and Tim negated. “No changes, but Richie says..." The words were out before Tim could clamp his mouth shut. "What does he say?" Tony leaned over the counter, more serious than before. "Timmy. Timster. Ne quid stulti feceris." [Don't do anything stupid] His voice had lowered to a warning undertone. Eventually, his son blew out his cheeks and frowned at the box of cereal on the table.

"He said he's going to marry Babs.”

A multitude of alarming shotgun wedding scenarios flooded Tony's mind at once, but he managed to keep a straight face. “Just for the record: No one's eloping without my consent around here.” He put up a threatening expression and wiggled a finger. “Same goes for you two lovebirds. This has been a public service announcement.” Glad for the squirm and blush his statement provoked, Tony finally took a sip of his soda.

Stephanie then slipped off the bar stool and excused herself to go to the restrooms outside the hall. Tony motioned for Tim to come around the kitchen island to lean against the windowsill, facing the huge black chalkboard where Alfred usually wrote down his grocery and to do lists. “Still practicing John Bonham's drum solo of Moby Dick?” He rolled the can in between his fingers. Tim rubbed his neck. “Not... at the moment.”

Tony hummed. “Steph's worth the intermission. And how's things going on the 'relationship with your dad' front?” Even as he took another gulp, Tony's eyes remained on his son. “Going-- okay, I guess.” His eyes slid sideways, down to the black and white tiles of the floor. “Okay, you guess? When's the last time you've had more than a Hi, dad – Bye, dad conversation with him?” The pause Tim took spoke volumes.

When he answered, his brows were furrowed. “He told me he would train me to become as good as he is, and then he never got along to actually doing it.” Tony's jaw jutted forward. “Ah, so he broke his promise?” “N-not really. It was more of a...” The soda can made a metallic sound as Tony put it on the granite windowsill. “A what? Hm?” Tim stubbed one sock-clad toe against the floor. “A... 'We'll see'.”

“Aha. And do you have an idea why he did not follow up on that not-really-promise?”

“I... guess.”

Tony stopped grilling his son to pull him close with an arm around his shoulders, despite the squeak of protest. “Be a little nicer to your dad, kay? I mean, not super-weird nice, he'd hate that, but just, I dunno. Show him you care. I know that's no easy feat, but-” His fingers tightened. "-optima spera." [Hope for the best] Tim nodded against his shoulder. After a moment, he craned his neck to look up at Tony's face.

“You and dad are not getting divorced, right?” It came out hesitant. “We – no. No, of course not.” Tony shook his head to himself. “I'm so sorry you guys got caught in the crossfire.” The fingers around Tim's shoulders tightened once more. “Us grownups should practice what we preach all the time, eh?” His son chuckled. “Eating up your veggies and going to bed early wouldn't work for either of you, but you could give it a shot.”

Tony put his hand upon his head and gave an affectionate ruffle to his hair. “Right on, you little scamp, just remember this: Bonis patribus boni sunt filii.” [To good fathers there are good sons] Timothy Jackson Wayne was quick to duck away as Stephanie returned, but smiled at the clandestine wink Tony threw him.

+

Later on, when Tim and Steph were taken to town by Alfred, Tony went looking for his husband. After searching high and low all over the Manor, he eventually found him in an unused salon on the first floor. “What are you--?” Bruce whirled around, one arm behind his back. “Nothing.” Tony gave a sad exhale. “We agreed on no more liquor around the house. Where did you get this?” Bruce flung the home bar shut with a rattle.

“After today I am very well entitled to a fucking drink!” His crude snarl made Tony sigh. “I know it sucks but you've gotta keep on trying. Any sip can bring you right back to square one.” Bruce's stance turned from defensive to aggressive as he brandished the unscrewed bottle around. “Damn right I am trying! Isn’t that enough for you?” When Tony only stared at him with large brown eyes, Bruce drew a shuddering breath.

“Nothing I do is ever good enough, for anybody. The hell with it.” Tony shook his head. “That's not true.” He pointed at the bar. “This here, though, this is not good enough because it's not who you are. You are a fighter, Bruce. Now give me the bottle. Please.” Bruce stared at his outstretched left hand for the longest time. Eventually, he flung the bottle onto the couch in the corner. “So what if there's nothing left to fight for.”

Tony closed his eyes and winced as the door slammed shut behind him. He made sure to pour all of the expensive bourbon down the drain and left the bottle in the kitchen for Alfred to dispose of it. The scent of rain lingered in the air as he took the old kitchen employee entrance and trudged out into the gardens of the Manor. It was still raining but he did not bother to head back and bring an umbrella along.

His feet took him up the small hill and the final resting place for members of the Wayne family. There, Tony stood in front of Jason's grave and brushed a hand over the wet stone. “Fuck it, Jay, why did you do that. You shouldn't have done that. Not for me. Not for anyone.” He reached inside the collar of his jacket and pulled out the chain with his wedding ring around it. It took one angry tug, then the chain ripped in half.

Tony tilted his hand so that the remains slid down to disappear within too long, sodden grass. The ring inside his palm burnt while he stood and regarded it with sorrow. “Why is this so fucking hard? What have we done to deserve this?” Nothing but the soft sounds of rain answered him. He curled his hand into a fist and sunk to his knees, uncaring about his jeans getting soiled, and lowered his head.

“I'd give anything to make things right, but I can't. I can't, and it's fucking killing me!”

His vision started to blur and he closed his eyes, angry at the tears that threatened him. All of a sudden, the rain stopped hitting his face. “You are going to catch a cold.” Tony opened his eyes and squinted up to where Bruce stood, holding a big black umbrella over his head. “Alfred is going to be mad at me if you get sick.” His tone and expression were wary, to which a brief, mirthless laugh escaped Tony's lips.

“And we can't have that, now can we?”

It came out snarkier than intended. Before Tony could scramble to his feet, Bruce held out a hand, palm up. With only a bit of hesitation, Tony took the wordless gesture of assistance by using his good, right hand. When Bruce felt a small, metal object being pressed into his palm, his eyes traveled down. Tony blinked several times and rubbed his sleeve over his face, wiping at the moisture there. “I don't deserve this.”

For a few heartbeats, Bruce said nothing. When he spoke, it was almost soundless. “I thought you had thrown it away.” Tony regard the jewelry with fondness. “Never. Just worn it close to my heart. Somewhere I could still feel it.” His large brown eyes shone suspiciously as he looked up. Despite the obscuring beard, Bruce's face was grave, with lines on his forehead that had not been there a year ago. Tony took a deep breath. 

“There's never been another, all shitty pictures aside. But if you have given up on us, I shouldn't be wearing it at all. It wouldn't be right.”

Wayne looked at the ring for the longest time. Wordless, he urged Tony to take a hold of the umbrella and looked from the silvery band to his anxious face. “May I?” A small spark of hope lit up Tony's dulled eyes as he held out his hand. Despite the faint jitters, Bruce managed to inch the ring back on Tony's finger. It sat a little loose but was in no danger of sliding off. They smiled at each other, uncertain, but with relief.

“See? It's good to know what's worth fighting for.” With those words, Tony handed him the umbrella back. “Sometimes we need a reminder to think about what we still have instead of thinking about what we've lost.” His eyes traveled over to the small gravesite once more. “It doesn't mean we will forget. Ever.” They stood, arms interlinked, at Jason's gravestone for another ten minutes, silent but together as one.

+  
  
It was past 7 pm when there was a distinctive roar of an engine outside. Barbara peeked through the curtains of her room on the first floor. Seconds later, there was a knock on the front door. With the security door chain still in place, she opened.

“Hi, pumpkin. How are you?”

“Good.”

It came out hesitant. Tony remained standing at a distance, palms facing her.

“Swell. Can you grant me five minutes with him? Just to talk, nothing more.”

 


	63. Chapter 63

“I...”

“I know he's on vacation cause I called at Princeton. And I know for a fact your parents aren't at home, so he's probably on his way to eating up all of your supplies. I came to your rescue.” Despite not wanting to, Barbara had to laugh, giving him a good view of her still bracketed teeth, even if it was just the front row by now.

Without a word she shut the door in his face, but then Tony heard the sound of metal sliding over wood, and the next thing he knew was that she stepped aside. He moved in but remained standing close by the door and gave her another of his best smiles as he spread his arms. “Now, what's this - do I get a hug or what?” Barbara was quick to accept his invitation and embraced him with gusto, sighing into his neck. “You smell nice.”

Tony chuckled. “It's not too late to ditch this little whippersnapper and come live with your prince.” It prompted a mighty blush on the girl's cheeks as she slapped his chest with a giggle. “Hey, I've heard that.” At the familiar, if a bit deeper voice, Tony swung around. “Richie.” In three long strides, he was in his son's face, hugging him tight and feeling two arms going around his back after a brief hesitation.

A sharp pang of realization hit Tony just then that he actually had to crane his neck and look up. “Damn, you've grown. Who told you it was okay to become taller than me in such a short amount of time?” Richard broke the hug and looked sheepish enough for Tony to recognize the boy he still was. “It's good to see you, Tony.” They smiled at each other in wistful reminiscence until Tony nudged his son's shoulder.

“Same here, kiddo. Hey, how about a quick ride over to Five Guys? It's been ages since I had a decent milkshake.”

The boy's eyes darted around the room. Unbeknownst to them, Barbara had made herself scarce. Tony clicked his tongue. “Don't worry, I'll bring you back here. Ask Babs which flavor she wants.” Richard's blue eyes held his for the longest time. Upon Tony's honest expression and the pinky swear gesture, the teenager went to speak to his girlfriend. He came back wearing a quilted jacket he zipped up along the way.

“Oreo Cream, and she said if we're not back in 45 minutes, she'll call her dad.” Stark pressed both hands above his heart and took a comical stagger back. “Ouch, that wounds me. My pumpkin going against the true love of her life. Me.” Richard bumped his shoulder as they headed for the door side by side. “Shut up, Tony.” It was said without true anger because he was trying hard to suppress a grin.

Outside, Tony ushered him into the passenger seat and motioned for him to buckle up. He then turned the keys and the R8 sprang to life with a powerful roar. The drive took less than ten minutes, during which they made bets on which car would dare to change lanes with them approaching in the rearview mirror. At the diner, Richard waited in the car and busied himself texting while Tony went inside to place their orders.

As soon as he returned with three large cups in a cup holder, they sat in the dark parking lot of Five Guys and slurped on their shakes, coffee-flavor for Tony, peanut butter for Richard. Eventually, Tony twisted his head to look at his younger cohort. “So. We've got exactly”, He made a move to check his watch. “21 minutes left. This is gonna be the quickest family reunion ever.” Richard eyed him, unsure what to reply.

It prompted Tony to stop suckling on the plastic straw and shift in his seat. “Alrighty, I'll cut right to the chase then. Babs and you are still going strong, despite the distance between Gotham and Princeton, huh?” Richard sloshed the thick liquid in his cup around with a swirling motion. “I'd want to be with Babs even if we were on separate continents.” To his left, Tony nodded along in understanding.

“While I honor this Romeo & Juliet mentality, albeit to an extent, allow me to say you're both quite young.” His son's eyes blazed in the distant neon-lit sign from the diner. “She's the one I want to be with. Forever.” Tony's goatee twisted into a daring smirk. “So then what? Did you propose? Did the whole on-your-knee-thing?” His blunt question made Richard pause, shake his head and peel off the plastic rim of the cup.

“Her dad would never allow it.” He frowned at his feet. “And neither would mine.” Tony inclined his head. “Wise decision. Neither your dad nor I could condone you two bumbling into teenage marriage.” Richard's face darkened. “He wouldn't want me to be happy anyhow.” With a reproachful tsk, Tony balanced his half-empty cup on his knee. “If only you knew how wrong that is.” His son sat up straight but remained seated.

“He threw me out, you were there!”

Tony pushed out his jaw and leaned his head back, taking his time to answer. “Your dad's got problems, Rich, I won't lie. We're trying to put the pieces back together, and I love him enough to be there when things get rough, but he needs all the support he can get, even if he would never say it aloud. I'm not asking you to go make peace with him, but to at least think about it. T'is the Season, you know?”

Richard scrunched up his nose. “It's not even autumn, Tony.” Stark shrugged, all carefree. “Time flies and all that jazz. You never know when you'll be able to see your father and me in these high spirits again.” The boy suckled on his straw and stared out of the windshield. The first drops of rain had begun to obscure the view. “Are you trying to guilt-trip me to coming home for Christmas?”

An obscene slurp followed his question, prompting him to throw Tony a pointed look. “Could I do that? In theory, I mean?” He bit down on his straw with such a mock-seductive, extensive blink of his lashes that Richard could not help but laugh out loud. “I'll think about it.” A little over 15 minutes later, Richard stood back at the curb of the Gordons house, Barbara's shake in hand.

Tony stuck his head out of the window despite the ongoing rain. “Final question – you and Babs, I mean... she's not,” Tony made a bump motion over his belly, to which Richard blushed with vigor and shook his head. “Nonono, of course not, I... we... No!” The breath Tony released spoke of utter relief. “One problem less for me to think about at this point. Thanks, kiddo. See you at Thanksgiving then!”

Before Richard could open his mouth to protest about being tricked, Tony turned the keys and was gone with squealing tires and loud revving of the engine. It prompted several dogs of the neighborhood to bark out into the night and Richard to shake his head and roll his eyes before he sprinted inside.

+

It was past dinnertime when Tim trotted along the corridor of the Manor, munching on a handful of Alfred's homemade cookies. Light from the private gym caught his attention, and he peeked through the Victorian doors with their glass panels. His father was inside, doing a bodyweight workout including one-armed chin-ups and handstand pushups. Tim stood and watched, transfixed at the gravity-defying exercises.

At some point, Bruce looked into his direction. Feeling caught, Tim ducked his head and hurried onward. He had almost made it towards the grand staircase when a stern voice from behind made him freeze. “Timothy.” The boy swallowed the last cookie in one go and looked over his shoulder. "Yes?" Bruce Wayne stood in the doorway of his gym, arms crossed, most of his gray t-shirt stained with sweat. “Come here.”

Shuffling back with slumped shoulders, his son remained standing close by the door. "What is it?" His eyes darted from the stern expression on his father's face over to the equipment and back. “Remember when you asked to be trained?” Tim cast his eyes down with a gulp. “Yes.” His father cleared his throat. “Jason's death made me reconsider several things.” Bruce's voice was emotionless, even if he took a brief pause.

“I will teach you how to defend yourself, should the situation ever require for you to be able to. I will not teach you how to attack, let alone kill.” Tim blinked up at his father's bearded countenance, stupefied. “When do we start?” The Gothamite's mouth quirked into an almost invisible smirk.

“Now.”

+

Returning home in a cold and biting drizzle with traces of hail in it, Tony went into the bathroom. He let hot water run into the huge drop-in tub in the corner and added a hearty portion of bath salts. Planning to soak for at least half an hour, Tony then left to make himself a cup of tea for an added spa-feeling. Once he returned, steaming mug in hand and wearing nothing but a bathrobe, he discovered he had company.

Bruce stood in front of the mirror, bare chested but wearing a pair of knee-length workout shorts and running shoes. A razor was in hand and his face was clean-shaven for the first time in months. Wayne looked from the still running water over to Tony's semi-dressed physique and lingered for a moment. His sharp gaze prompted Tony to stop walking on the spot and take a step back. “Oh, I-- didn't know you were here. Sorry, I...”

He hissed when his hectic motions caused a few droplets of tea to spill over and singe his thumb. “... ouch, I... just wanted to sneak in a bath. Biggest tub in the Manor, y'know.” Wayne was quick to rinse and towel his face dry of shaving cream. “No, please, feel free to use it. I can take a shower in one of the the other bathrooms.” Putting the mug aside, Tony blew at his burnt digit. “Care to join me, perhaps?”

It came out as a mumbled string of words, and he avoided eye contact as he said it.  
As he stood inspecting the bath rug with interest, he heard rather than saw Bruce swallow.  
“I'd like that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's calisthenics workout inspired by this amazing dude:  
> https://youtu.be/aJ1RYHgwTR8?t=9  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gA3MUJyHzY


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kindly mind a higher rating for the first part of this chapter

Bruce mumbled something about being right back and Tony used the moment to slip into the tub. Once Wayne returned, he, too, wore only a monogrammed bathrobe. In a self-conscious move, he was quick to dispose of it and slid underwater as well. The salts had turned the water into a murky swirl, hiding everything under its surface. With a languishing moan, Tony sunk in deeper. “Ahh. Best part of the day.”

He then dipped his head back until his hair was fully immersed in the water. The tub was big enough for two grown people to sit opposite of each other without unwanted body contact. When Tony reappeared, dark locks slicked back and dripping wet, he grinned. “Your turn.” Bruce's eyes narrowed. “For what?” A finger pointed into the water. “Don't tell me you're going to bed with that sweaty hairdo.”

Mild exasperation shone back at him before Bruce followed his lead and dipped under. In the process, their legs touched, and it resulted in a mutual jolt that sent water sloshing over the rim. Both started to apologize almost at once. That was when Tony slammed a palm into the water, drops flying everywhere. “Okay, you know what? Screw this. We're worse than two teenagers. I'm coming over. Get ready to spoon. Now.”

Wayne dutifully spread his legs until Tony had scooted close enough to be able to lean his back against Bruce's chest. He nestled his head in the crook of Bruce's neck and felt two strong arms encircle him. Neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room coming from the occasional drip of the brass faucet. After a while, the Gothamite's hands began to probe the soft tissue of Tony's shoulders and upper arms.

“It seems like the medial cutaneous nerve has gone back to a good range of motion.” Bruce's voice was a deep rumble against his back, and Tony's eyes slipped shut. “You think so?” The touches resumed, turning from clinic to a more caressing motion after a while. “Yes.” Tony was glad for the water to hide his growing arousal as he felt his body start to react to the ministrations. “You're right, I can feel... an improvement.”

He dipped his own hands underwater and ran them along Bruce's thighs, feeling the solid muscle twitch at first touch. When he craned his head towards Bruce's jawline, hazel eyes found his. “Can't you?” One of Bruce's palms came up to cup his cheek. “Yes.” Their first kiss was soft and shy, and when it ended, they were left staring at each other, breathless, with Tony's eyes wandering down to Bruce's slightly parted lips.

“BB...”

It was more of an exhale but it resulted in Wayne crushing his mouth to his like a parched and starved man. Tony's mouth turned soft and pliant under his lips, just before he became bolder in the wake of arousing passion, repressed feelings, and long-squelched desires. Their breaths mingled as their kisses turned to open-mouthed, intimate ones, involving tongues. Soon, Tony felt his husband's erection pressing into his back.

“Do you... can we... here?” He was both panting and babbling as he twisted around to straddle him. Bruce groaned in response to the intimate touch. “No l-lube.” One of Tony's dripping wet hands then reached out and groped around until it had grabbed a bottle of bathing oil. “This'll do.” He rose in between Bruce's splayed legs to prepare himself and let out a string of obscenities when Bruce took him in his mouth.

“Ah fuck, I..-, don't - ahh, I'll... I'm not gonna l-last.” The bath oil bottle dropped into the water, forgotten, as Tony lowered himself. A cocoon of warmth and wetness encased them as soon as they united. Tony gasped out a breath and closed his eyes when he felt Bruce's fingers dig into his hips. Wayne's answering moan made him open his eyes again, albeit heavy-lidded. They kissed again before he began to rock his hips.

Bruce's hands were strong around his buttocks as Tony braced himself on his shoulders and rode him. Water began to eddy up and splash over the rim as their motions grew in intensity. Steam curled up in the air, and their foreheads were damp with perspiration as they rocked against each other, sending more and more liquid over the rim. “God... BB, it's,... I'm- gonna- gonna... come too soon, shit, I... oh, fuck...”

The latter managed to grunt out affirmatives through gritted teeth and started to meet him with encouraging thrusts before his own release washed over him. That moment of lost self-control was all it took for Tony to throw his head back and follow suit with such an intense, sensual moan that all of Bruce's skin erupted in goosebumps. Afterward, they rested against each other in a pile of boneless limbs in a half-empty tub.  
  
“Whoa...”

At the less than eloquent wording of his husband, Bruce shifted and freed his hands to wrap them around his waist. “Sleep with me tonight?” Tony stopped peppering his jaw with small, open-mouthed kisses. “Just did.” His lips stretched into a cheeky smirk. Bruce's arms tightened around his bare back. “Next to me. In m- our bed.” Tired and sated, Tony then dropped his head back into the crook of his neck, smiling.

“Thought you'd never ask.”

+

Alfred stepped into the master bedroom at 8:30, like on any other Saturday morning. Before his feet led him over to open the curtains, he stopped at the sight that greeted him. Bruce Wayne lay on his side, deeply asleep, spooning his husband with a possessive hold of a bare arm around Tony's waist. Most of his face was buried deep in his thick, dark hair while there was contentment written all over Stark's sleeping features.

The butler slipped back out of the room without a sound, closing his eyes for a split second before rolling them heavenward with a grateful smile. His subliminal joy and relief found an outlet in preparing a breakfast table that brimmed with a hearty selection of pastries, fruit, eggs, and three kinds of fresh juices. The two men eventually trotted downstairs an hour later, wearing bathrobes and matching bed heads.

Among the stack of daily newspapers delivered to the Manor, The Gotham Gazette's big bold headline greeted them even from far away. _'Batman Still Missing - Who Is The Mysterious Iron Man?'_ With a low whistle, Tony lowered himself in his usual chair and snatched it from the pile. He got so absorbed in the article that Bruce went and poured him his usual cup of coffee with just the right dash of milk. "There we have it."

It was said without recrimination. The paper rustled as Tony reached out to grab the mug with a loving, thankful expression. “Yeah. Iron Man, huh? That's kinda catchy." Bruce arched an eyebrow but said nothing. His husband hummed out loud. "No, really, it's got a nice ring to it, though it's not technically accurate. It's gold-titanium-alloy.” To the sound of a throat being cleared, Tony gave a final nod and put the paper aside.

“But it's kind of evocative, the imagery, anyway.”

They began to eat in a companionable silence until Bruce was the one to break it. “I started showing Tim how to defend himself yesterday.” Tony put his coffee aside and made a move to grab the small porcelain jug he knew was filled with maple syrup. “Okay, as long as it remains a self-defense workout.” Bruce nodded. “As discussed.” Stark stopped dousing the waffle on his plate and cocked his head. “How'd he do?”

Wayne reached for the nearby bread basket. “Not bad. He's athletic. Not as much as,” A pause. “Richard, but he's a fast learner. The training will do him good in the long run.” His husband forked up a piece of the dripping pastry and stuffed it into his mouth. “Yeah.” After washing it down with a sip of coffee, Tony put the cutlery aside and tapped two fingers against the antique ceramic egg cup with its golden rim.

“The boys are going to freak when they get to see the suit." That made Bruce stop buttering his toast. “So how do you plan on handling things?” Tony glimpsed up from where he had been calculating the proper angle to behead his breakfast egg. “I don't want to keep this from them. With good reason.” Bruce pointed his butter knife at the Gazette. "And what about the public?" His voice was calm but there was tension in his jaw.

His husband eyed the grainy black and white headline again. Eventually, he shrugged. “Under wraps would probably make the most sense I guess. Like you.” Wayne lowered the knife in favor of reaching for his cup of tea. “People are going to be suspicious. Especially the press.” A shrug. “Well, let 'em. They've been in the dark about you for ages, no?” Elbows up on the table, Bruce held the mug in between both palms.

“Because I have a different public persona than you do. People know you are a genius by now.” Tony's smile became endearing. “While that's actually music to my ears, BB, I doubt that equals putting on a flying suit of armor.” Wayne seemed unsatisfied with his lax way of dismissing the situation, so Tony got up from his seat and prompted him to abandon his pensive stance until he could sit on his lap, legs swung over one side.

“Okay, so I'm also going to buy a pair of glasses and act all nerdy and clumsy at shindigs. We good?” Ignoring him, the Gothamite continued to think aloud. “We could try to go down the 'permanently injured' route.” Tony reached up with the arm in question and brandished it about. “Only I'm bound to forget at some point, and get a 'Mysterious Healing – Is Stark A Genius Wizard?' headline.” Bruce gave a long, suffering sigh.

“Anybody ever told you just how utterly impossible you are?” All cuddlesome, Tony wiggled on his lap and reached out to cup his cheek. “My beloved husband. And maybe a couple of other, utterly unimportant people.” His thumb traced the edge of Bruce's mouth before Tony applied a kiss to the disgruntled scowl there. “We'll burn that bridge when we get to it, okay? Now eat up, you need your strength back.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The newspaper headline about Iron Man as well as Tony's musings are taken from the original Iron Man movie script.


	65. Chapter 65

His heart was pumping fast as blood rushed in his ears. A single bead of sweat ran down Tony's temple and he wiped at it with the back of his hand. “Are you coming along to the office with me tomorrow?” His voice was a trifle breathless. A bare arm stretched out in his direction, glistening with sweat. “Do you want me to?” Tony reached down and un-clipped the sports bottle from his mountain bike to hand it over.

“Course. Lou's been a saint, but I overheard him say it's better to keep me out of board meetings in the future.”

Mouth busy gulping down water, Bruce threw him a questioning look which included two raised eyebrows. “I really didn't mean to make the guy with the fluffy white muttonchops cry, I just thought it'd be cool if we all could have a LAN party meet-up.” He looked at the speedometer mounted on his bike. “Damn daddy longlegs, you're back to full stamina already. It's like you never stopped working out. What are you, a genetic freak?”

Next to him, Bruce stopped suckling and recapped the bottle, handing it back completely empty. “Muscle memory.” Tony harrumphed. “Next lap's uphill. I expect you to at least make some human sounds like wheezing or panting.” Wayne's smile turned lenient. “No promises.” To prove a point, he even increased his easy-going, 7:00 pace. Tony blew out his cheeks and rose from his seat to keep up, pedaling against gravity.

As soon as they had raced each other to the top, Tony put his bike into freewheel mode and Bruce paused his GPS watch and walked on, hands on his hips, squinting at the distant Hillsdale. “Speaking of which. How long are you planning on doing this?” Legs on the ground, straddling his bike, Tony checked his speedometer. “We're at mile seven. You wanted to do ten today, which I find overly ambitious, but if it floats your boat...”

Gravel crunched under Bruce's running shoes. “Not that.” He stopped walking to turn around and face his husband. “I need to get back. In the suit.” Hazel eyes narrowed until Tony stopped drumming two fingers on the handlebar. “While it's been a real treat to watch you during your shirtless gym pounding sessions - isn't that a bit... early?” They locked eyes. Bruce was about to cross his arms but opted for an akimbo stance instead.

“You can't keep me locked down forever.” At the widespread gesture Tony made to showcase the vast landscape around, Bruce threw him a pointed look. “Or my gear.” Tony's lips curled in a wicked manner. “Tried it at least once, haven't you?” Bruce harrumphed. “No.” The wicked grin widened. “Betcha would freak out when Don't Touch Me starts blaring. Much more fun than a regular alarm.”

“Can't Touch This.”  
An accusing finger jabbed into his direction, accompanied by a snapping motion.  
“Aha!”

Miffed at his slip of the tongue, Bruce finger-combed through his recently trimmed hair and shot Tony a glare until the latter finally stopped guffawing. “In any case, there need to be rules in the future.” That got his husband to sober up and sniff against the tears of laughter. “Ugh, you said the nasty R word. Rules for what?”

“For your and my other... activities.”

“Uhhh, we never needed rules for that.”

“Tony.”

“Yeah, okay, serious now, I get it, I get it. Spill.”

“I want you to stay out of the Batman's way, and vice versa. Gotham is my jurisdiction. No team-ups.”

“What? Boo. Why not?”

“The fewer congruences, the better.”

Tony mulled over his demands for a while, fingers toying with the gear shifter. “Okay, here's my part of the deal: I can get on board with that, provided you let me have a little Iron Fun outside the city every now and then. And only as long as there's no real danger to you or the boys or Al. Oh, and that you don the sexy sleek gray Armani and dazzle me and your employees again. As of tomorrow.”

His husband wiped his forehead and curled his lips into something akin to a smile. “That I can do.” Bruce then pressed a button on his watch and went from a jog back to his previous pace. Tony drew up close to him again, leaning his weight over the handlebar in a precarious move. “You gotta admit though - the surround sound of the cave is amazeballs. All the reverb! We should throw a party there!”

+

As Tony had predicted, Bruce was welcomed back at Wayne Enterprises with open arms. They strode through the corridors side by side, and people left and right came up to greet them. Someone even had baked a batch of muffins which greeted them in Bruce's office, and Lucius Fox bestowed a hug upon the Gothamite, whispering something in Bruce's ear that made the billionaire nod before he patted his shoulder.

Once Bruce sat safe and secure behind his large desk, frowning at his full inbox, Tony deemed it wise to leave him be. He snatched two muffins and hurried off with a kiss and a promise for a joint lunch later on. He managed to work out a few kinks on the vertical propulsion force of the ARC-powered Monorail prototype before his growling stomach led him upstairs, strolling along the carpeted corridors of the executive suite.

When he entered, Bruce was talking to someone on the phone. He wore his headset and stood at the huge panorama window front overlooking most of Gotham Bay and its ships. “At the risk of repeating myself: No. That's non-negotiable. Matter of fact, I suggest you refrain from contacting our R&D department again.” With a frown, Tony hovered in the doorway, partly hidden behind the ajar door.

He watched his husband starting to pace along ceiling-high windows like a caged tiger, arms crossed over his broad chest. “If you don't stop harassing my husband, Luthor, there are ways to make sure you will regret it.” The call then ended rather abruptly, and Bruce all but tore off the device. That was when he noticed his silent visitor. “Hi. Come in.” His smile was instant and fake like the glasses he was donning in public.

Tony stepped in and pushed the massive door shut behind him. “Hey. I just wanted to see about lunch, and-” He crossed the distance over to Bruce's large desk and cocked his head. “-is everything alright?” There was a bit of a flush to the Gothamite's cheeks. “Yes. Just cleaning out my inbox.” A dark eyebrow rose. “By going all corporate overlord on the phone?” Wayne ground his jaw and cast the innocent notebook a sinister look.

“I've seen some of the mail correspondence. I'm going to have a meeting with Lucius about it after lunch.”

A lethal undertone was in his voice. Tony raised both hands, palms facing him. “Hey, now. Nothing happened. LexCorp is merely trying to get back on their feet.” Bruce shook his head with vigorous determination. “Not here. Not in Gotham. Not on my watch.” Tony lowered his hands and clicked his tongue. “C'mon, BB, you know we can handle a little competition. Stop acting like they are catcalling us.” Bruce's eyes turned hard.  
  
“He is not supposed to call. At all. Least of all you.”  
  
A small crack made both of them look down at the mangled headset in Bruce's hand. Tony hummed along and cocked his head. “Well. At least you can't go yelling at people for time being. How about lunch while your assistant goes and organizes a new headset for you?” The dark glower Bruce bestowed upon him only made Tony reach for his hand and interlace their fingers. "And afterward, you gotta try those carrot cake muffins!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Can't Touch This' by MC Hammer (1990) because Tony is a weirdo who likes 90s classics like me ;)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5X5zh00rdg


	66. Chapter 66

It was a little past the regular office hours when Bruce knocked on his business manager's door and was told to come in. “How was the first day back at the helm?” With a soft sigh, the billionaire sunk into the comfortable leather couch in the corner. From his place, he had a good view on the luxury chess board across the table, made from rosewood and dark walnut. It had been his present for Lucius' 50th birthday.

“Exhausting.”

Fox threw him a sympathetic look and stood up from his desk to join him in a more informal seating arrangement. He pointed at a carafe filled with water, but Bruce gave a polite shake of his head. Lucius then leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. “You've been wanting to speak to me about LexCorp.” Bruce stopped tugging at the knot of his tie until he had loosened it enough to leave it slightly askew.

“Hours ago, yes. Tony just kept me busy the whole afternoon.” He gave an affectionate smirk before his expression turned serious in the blink of an eye. “Several emails from Luthor hint at him knowing about the existence of armored suits.” Fox put his palms on his thighs. “They are thinking along the lines of unmanned, aerial drones, AI-controlled. It won't lead them anywhere, especially since," He paused to look at his employer.

"All data relevant to said project has been deleted from the company's servers upon Tony's explicit wish.”

Bruce's eyebrows rose. “When?” Lucius tilted his head. “After the first sightings of a flying armor in Gotham. Weeks before your return. It was the safest decision.” Wayne said nothing. Eventually, he rose and walked over to the window front, sliding one hand in the pocket of his pants. He frowned out into the darkening skies of his city for a few moments, thinking back to the paparazzi pictures from the Boston science fair.

“Any intel behind it still needs to be kept as secured as...” His free hand made a vague gesture at himself just as he looked over his shoulder. Fox gave a circumspect nod. “Of course. It is, however, no secret that LexCorp has been trying to recreate the ARC technology. The chances for them to succeed are slim, or rather next to none." Bruce turned around, arms now crossed over his chest, and walked back over to the couch.

Instead of sitting down again, he stood and examined the tactical situation upon the chessboard. Lucius Fox followed his gaze and slid closer to the edge of the sofa. "I, for one, am all for a 'Keep your friends close but your enemies closer' strategy.” Wayne's eyes rested on the black king sitting in close proximity to its black knight. When he focused back on Fox, the corner of his mouth lifted into the smallest of smiles.  
  
“Let's do that.”

+

Before they knew it, their first wedding anniversary was upon them. The local gossip scene still gobbled up all gushy tidbits of their official reunion, and even if it pained them both to milk it for the public, Tony and Bruce deliberately went to dine out at one of the fanciest restaurants in Gotham on the evening prior to the 17th August. The crystal scintillated as Tony raised his glass and regarded the man across from him.

“To us and what they say about weathering the storms.”

At the toast, Bruce nodded and reached for his own flute filled with sparkling cider. “I still don't understand why you wanted to do this today instead of tomorrow.” After taking a sip of his non-alcoholic drink, Tony put his glass aside and licked his lips. His well-trimmed goatee moved into a beatific smile. “See, I had enough time to freak out about potential gifts for you and, as expected, I came up empty.”

Bruce made a move to object, but Tony put a stop to his words by putting a hand on his. “However, there is still that unused apartment I got in NYC, and its rent is already prepaid until the end of the month...” When he leaned over the candle-lit table, his dark-brown eyes held an impish glint. “... I was thinking we could do a little romantic getaway starting as of tomorrow. Just two days, you and me.”

He held his breath as the candlelight flickers mirrored in the lenses of Bruce's glasses. Moments later, however, Wayne nodded. “Via jet then. I am not keen on getting any more speeding tickets coming from your lead foot.” His mouth curled with disdain. Tony put his free elbow on the table and his chin on top. “Received them pretty pictures I take it?” At his coy expression, Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly.

“All four of them, yes. I hope you don't expect me to frame them and put them on my desk.” His husband batted long lashes at him. “Too bad. I call it my velocity expressionism collection. An abstract character study in smudgy black and white.” The Gothamite's left eyebrow arched. “Your expressionism is worth a solid three-figure amount.” He gave an airy hum that spoke of reevaluation. “Maybe I should go and frame it.”

Tony's thumb caressed the back of his hand.  
“What can I say? Art imitates life – or was it the other way around?”  
Their food arrived and they had to stop holding hands. Tony unfolded his napkin with a chuckle.  
  
“That being said, I do have a 'real' present for you later on.”

+

Bruce's gaze spoke of confusion and apprehension as they went down into the cave instead of the bedroom. With an almost ceremonial expression, Tony then reached for his mobile, held it to his mouth and locked eyes with his husband. “Jarvis? Remove the lock on the Batgear. Code TLB/2919.” The man next to him frowned. “Jarvis?” Tony shrug-grinned. “Just a rather very intelligent system. JARVIS.”

The Gothamite dipped his chin to his chest with a clement shake of the head. The deep, hydraulic whoosh of the Batsuit casing caused them both to look up and over to where the armory was stored. Much to Tony's surprise, Bruce did not immediately head up the few stairs to inspect his armor. “Show me your suit.” Tony all but startled and stopped from where he was about to pocket his phone.

“You've... seen it.”  
  
Wayne's eyes, sans glasses ever since their return home, held his gaze. “I want to really see it.” Eyes trained on Bruce, Tony swallowed and pressed a button on his mobile. A second capsule emerged from a hidden panel, in close proximity to the one of the Batsuit. Wayne then started walking and Tony followed him, staying close behind. With a hydraulic hiss, the capsule opened and a whiff of something akin to metal lay in the air.

The Gothamite walked around the lifeless, darkened shell two times, arms crossed, one hand tucked under his chin. Eventually, he stopped in front of it. “How much does it weigh?” Tony cleared his throat. “240, tare weight.” Bruce gave an assessing nod and Tony shuffled closer to him, side-eyeing the way he seemed lost in thought. Wayne then inhaled. “You have destroyed all electronic records on the constructional process.”

Tony nodded. “Except for the ones up in here. Safest storage place there is.” He pointed at his temple. Bruce glimpsed at him, questions lingering behind tight lips. “One thing I know by now is that I don't want it in serial production. Ever. The consequences... big no-no.” When Wayne still did not speak his mind and chose to focus on the armor again, Stark took the chance and prattled on.

“Also, I want you to get familiar with the suit's technical specifications, mostly those that will work on shutting it down if push comes to shove. There are a couple of kill switches - not many, but they are there. You need to know all of them, in case something happens.” At that, Bruce's head whipped into his direction. “You want me to be able to bring you down?” A subtle sarcastic notion swung within his question.

"In case I go rogue, yes. It's a factor to consider.” Seeing Tony remained dead serious, Bruce's eyebrows shot up. “You know that's a lot to ask.” Tony's grin turned mischievous. “You think?” Wayne started to speak but snapped his mouth shut. After a few seconds and another deep breath, he tried again. “We are talking about your life inside the suit.” There was no more sarcasm in his voice, only a thoroughly fazed tone.

Tony dipped his chin low and nudged him with a shoulder. “You're the only one worth trusting it with.” Bruce pushed out his jaw and raised one eyebrow. “To trust you as far as I could throw you?” Tony stopped short. “Nah, I... hey! Wait... wait up – was that a joke? Did you just crack a joke?” Bruce Wayne slid his hands into the pockets of his pants with a smug expression. “I could definitely lift you. Throwing, though – debatable.”

That got Tony to harrumph. “Pah, could not. Showoff.” Hazel eyes sparkled back at him with something Tony had not seen in them for a very long time. Challenge. “My bench press PR is at 420. Provided you didn't gain a lot of weight recently, you can even stay inside and enjoy the show.” Like Bruce had done earlier, Tony opened his mouth to give a retort, thought about it, only to snap it shut with a smirk.

“The mental image of you bench pressing me in the suit just made me hard.” He snuggled up to his husband for evidence. Only the Gothamite did not grope him but reached out to cup his face instead. “I love your genius mind.” Their eyes darted in between each other. Tony's lips curled into a hesitant, insecure smile. “Just my mind?” Bruce paused, frowned, and shook his head with a rueful smirk. “I love you.”

With that, he leaned in to seal their lips in a deep kiss and felt Tony sigh into his mouth. “Good. But does that include my boner?” Sharp teeth sunk into his bottom lip, making him murmur in protest. “Ouch. Rogue.” Wayne put one arm around his waist and lifted him up in a swift motion, palm sliding under his buttocks. “I'll say.” Tony crossed his legs behind his back and interlinked his arms in Bruce's nape.

“Mmh, you sexy, virile beast. Maybe I should go and put it on right now. My suit.” He then began to hum a low, husky melody. “Metal under tension, begging you to touch and go...” His husband frowned at his sing-song voice. “Are you serenading me with corny 80's soundtracks?” A wiggle of eyebrows. “I'd prefer the term - wooing.” Wayne smirked. “You're not wooing me with Kenny Loggins.” Tony pursed his lips.

“Guess who just outed himself as a connoisseur of corny 80s soundtracks.” The one-armed hold eased up without warning, and Tony found himself back on his feet. He eyed their different armors again. “Hey, if anything else fails, we could always team up and do stand-up comedy. Your newly found sense of humor needs an outlet.” With a final glimpse at his armor, Bruce then turned around and headed towards the cave's elevator.

"Absolutely, yes." Uncaring about his full-fledged sarcasm, Tony kept on musing aloud. "I can almost see it before my inner eye: Weekly gigs on small stages all over the country. Making the good guys laugh before making the bad guys cry." Wayne kept on walking but called back over his shoulder. “Wonderful idea.” His dulcet voice got Tony to stop squinting at their armors while making a movie director framing gesture.

“And you know what? I already got a name for us: Metal And Rodent. How'd ya like that? Huh? Bruce? Hello? The lights have gone off in h... - BB?”

 


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter will feature higher-rated m/m situations

Bruce Wayne entered the posh apartment suite 36D in Manhattan's One57 tower with a cautious and perusing expression. Behind him, his husband trailed along, carrying his weekender in the crook of his arm and a bag of deli food with two soft drinks in a cup holder in his hands. He gave a careful kick to the door and let it fall into its lock. “Go on, make yourself at home. I'll just get us a little fresh air.”

Tony went to inch the drinks and the food onto the kitchen counter and all but dropped his bag onto the floor. Wayne put his own monogrammed traveling bag next to the couch and watched him scurry around the loft, opening a window in the living room to which faint sounds of the city below streamed in. After an initial scan, Bruce focused on his rummaging husband. “Run the stats by me again?”

“One bed, 1.5 bathrooms, 1,021 square feet. Monthly rate of $ 2,399 which is, don't give me that look, a true bargain for this kind of condo.” Tony's mouth curved into a lopsided smirk as he reached into a drawer. “Paid for the rent all by myself, too, so no worries. That's what savings are for.” At the brazen tone of his voice, Bruce's eyes narrowed. “Alright. I wasn't sure whether to bring this issue up, but now I have to.”

With a huge sigh, Bruce slipped off his glasses and rubbed his eyes which were dry after the flight. “Of all regrettable things I have said, this will be something I'll never, ever be able to live down.” Tony kept on distributing their sandwiches and salad orders and shut the drawer with a hip. “Cut the violins, BB, I didn't want to rub it in... okay, maybe I did, but only once, cause it's our anniversary. No grudges.”

Bruce still looked like a mixture of misery and vexation as he watched Tony gather up two tumblers in between his fingers. “You and I both know you don't even let me pay you ever since we're married.” Tony arched an eyebrow as he peeked around the open fridge, a bottle of sparkling water in hand. “Okay now. I am on the Wayne Enterprises payroll, for starters, and I certainly don't wanna get paid for taking care of my sons.”

He slipped all items on the counter and faced his sullen husband. “BB.” The endearment was laced with loving reproach. Two defiant eyes found his, even as Bruce shook his head. “I owe so much to you. Every damn dollar should belong to you, every single one. But even then-” Wayne scowled at nothing in particular. “It still wouldn't be enough to let you know how sorry I am.” The last part came out in between gritted teeth.

Napkins in hand, Tony blew out his cheeks. He slid the paper towels onto the table and stepped up to his husband. “See, I purposely ruined the mood just so I could cheer you up with the sight of the monstrous king-size bed.” Bruce raised his head to follow his outstretched finger. "But..." His morose expression made Tony reach for the lapels of his lightweight jacket and pull him close for a kiss.

“Apology accepted, Broody. Let's eat and then take a shower.”

+

Much to Bruce's dismay, Tony went on showering first and left him with a damp kiss telling him to take his time. When Bruce had dried off and secured the towel around his hips, Tony had already seen to prepare the bedroom. Warm downlights provided illumination, together with a tasteful scented candle arrangement. A bottle of lube was on the nightstand, as well as a bowl and a clean rag next to it, and two glasses of water.

“Romantic.”  
Tony looked up at him, his eyes darker than usual in the twilight. Like Bruce, he, too, only wore a towel.  
“Come here.”

He patted the mattress next to him, and Bruce complied. They started out kissing and caressing each others skin, still warm from their shower. Soon, the towels gave way to inquiring fingers and mouths. At some point, draped over the naked, solid body of his husband, Tony paused mid-kiss. “Sure feels different not being at home, hm?” Hazel eyes blinked him and the room back into focus. “It is a nice apartment.”

It was as evasive and noncommittal as Bruce Wayne would go and admit he liked something. His warm breath ghosted over Tony's face as Bruce initiated another round of kissing. When he made a move to start switching positions, Tony eventually put a gentle hand on his chest to stop to his motions. “I was thinking maybe we could try something else tonight, seeing we're here..." He started mouthing a path along Bruce's throat.

"... all by ourselves, kind of detached from our regular roles...” When Tony's fingers then inched to the area below his shaft, Bruce involuntarily jerked. Tony's eyes were soft, just like his lips on his stomach. “... but only if you want to.” He kept his touching feather-like and non-intruding. The Gothamite's chest had begun to rise and fall a little more noticeable. “Trust-building exercise?” Tony kissed his scarred sternum again.

“More like... earth-shattering-orgasm kind of exercise.” His fingers then idled up higher to run along the length of Bruce's arousal. “But we don't have to. I'm ready for whatever.” Seconds ticked away and Tony deliberately held his tongue and averted eye contact. “Do it.” Tony looked at him. Bruce put up a brave smile. “Do me.” There was an almost unnoticeable insecurity swinging within his words. Tony palmed one of his cheeks.

“With pleasure. Give me a safeword, just in case.” Bruce relaxed against the mattress, one of his hands running up and down Tony's left arm. “Parachute.” It made his husband smirk against his lips. “Very well. Hope I can get you to fly.” Wayne hummed in pleasant surprise when Tony scooted down to take him in his mouth and brought his slightly flaccid arousal back to full attention.

Caught up in a pleasant haze, Bruce felt two sturdy, capable hands sliding under his buttocks. They kneaded the firm flesh for a while before they adjusted the angle and lifted him up. Wayne complied by digging his heels into the mattress, but then Tony's tongue traveled down to where his fingers had been before. An unexpected moan tore from Bruce's throat; louder than his usual, composed vocalizations.

Tony paused to glimpse up at his flushed countenance, surprise and lust mirroring on his face. “Look at you.” His voice was thick with rapture. “God, it's so fucking sexy seeing you like this.” Without hesitation, he bent down to elicit more of those arousing noises until one of his hands reached for the bottle of lube. At the feel of one slick finger Bruce barely tensed, so Tony was quick to add a second one.

Being a genius mechanic made for a certain dexterity of his hands, and it did not take him long to brush them across the wanted, sensitive spot. “Ah! Fuck!” It sounded breathless and nothing like the stoic control freak Bruce usually had down pat, even during sex. Tony brushed his free hand over his own arousal and licked his lips. “Relax, BB, it's gonna be good. I'm gonna make you feel so good.”

Said man only gasped in response to the stretching and probing motions. Eventually, Tony replaced his fingers with his shaft, slow and deliberate, despite his own overwhelming lust. A low, keening sound escaped the back of Bruce's throat as he squeezed his eyes shut. Tony paused for a moment. “Al...alright?” A nod. “Go on.” It sounded shaky. As soon as he was certain Bruce was not in any pain, Tony did as he was told.

At the feeling of being completely surrounded by his lover, Tony had to take a moment to compose himself. He shifted to be able to catch Bruce's lips in a sloppy kiss before he began to thrust in slow motion. His mouth traveled down to take a pebbled nipple into his mouth while one of his palms cupped Bruce's cheek. “Has it ever felt this way, BB?” He lifted his head to see desire mirrored on his husband's features.

“Nev-er before - just w... ith you.” It made Tony bury himself inside of him again, letting one of his thumbs slide in between Bruce's half-opened lips at the same time. With a sensuous groan, Bruce sucked on the digit until Tony replaced his hand with his mouth. When Bruce blinked his eyes open, the rare display of vulnerable passion in them almost took Tony's breath away. “... love you... Anthony... I...”

Wayne bit his lip and arched upward as Tony managed to brush his sensitive spot again, rendering him inarticulate. In milliseconds, Tony's brain short-circuited at the sight, causing him to come with a long, drawn-out moan and a strong grip on Bruce's shoulders. After he had spent himself, Tony shifted in a halfway coherent manner and bent down to kiss his husband's red and swollen lips. “Sorry... couldn't control myself.”

Bruce gasped into his mouth when he felt Tony's fingers replace his shaft and resume their thrusting motions. “Damn you're so slick with my come, BB, d'you know how hot that is?” Wayne was only able to give a broken, wanton groan. “Next time I'll make sure you'll come on my dick. Hard.” Bruce panted out his name, fisting the sheets as his whole body shook from the force of his own orgasm that washed over him.

Tony stroked him until he was limp and spent, nibbling on his throat until the spasms finally subsided. Bruce hardly registered when he withdrew and began to clean them both up with a warm, moist rag. Once done, Tony scooted close and pulled the sheets up, covering them both, and kissed the still pulsing vein on Bruce's flushed neck once more. “Hope this can compete with your previous encounters.”

Wayne put one arm behind his head. “No data to compare it to, but I'm certain you've set the bar very high.” Tony looked downright puzzled. “Wait up, you mean you've never...?” Bruce cast him a small shrug paired with a guarded smile. “What I said: Never before.” His free hand played with the hem of the covers. “Yeah, but I thought you meant...” Tony exhaled to compose himself. “God, if I'd known, I would have...”

A hand reached around his nape and pulled him closer until its thumb ghosted over his lips and prevented Tony from speaking on. Bruce then nuzzled at the spot under his ear. “It was perfect the way it was.” When he laid back against the pillow, Tony snuggled up close. “Besides, you haven't even asked me about your wedding present yet.” Bruce's voice was back to being cool and composed. Tony hummed out loud.

“Why, I thought your presence here was the gift that keeps on giving. Especially after tonight...” His voice held a dreamy touch and his fingers came up to caress some of the well-known scars on Bruce's chest. Wayne extricated the hand that had been busy running along Tony's bare skin, kneading wiry muscles all over his upper back. “This here is my wedding gift to you.” He pointed all around the apartment.

Confusion shone back at him as Tony raised his head. “I'm afraid I don't follow-...?” Wayne ran his fingers through his hair. “As of this week, you are registered as the sole owner. Taxes and fees are already taken care of.” Stark drew in a sharp breath through his nose and sat up a little straighter. “Are you crazy? Nono, wait, don't answer that. Sheesh.” He rubbed his cheek and let the news sink in.

“For which purpose? A secondary residence for us to explore our kinkiest sexual desires? The New York upscale, BDSM billionaire darkroom extravaganza everyone already expects you to own anyhow?” The blanket was pooling in his lap. Bruce tugged at the opposite corner to keep himself covered. “That, or it could become a condo for Richard and Barbara, should the... situation ever come up.”

His quiet words made the lewd grin on Tony's face fade into an expression full of affection. “That's actually a wonderful idea and an even more wonderful present. Did I already mention how much I love you?” Hazel eyes darted from his to the blanket and back. “Despite everything?” It sounded uncertain. With a huge sigh, Tony moved to straddle him, leaning into his face and running all of his fingers through Bruce's hair.

“Yes, and it's about time you better believe me, Mister W. And not just cause you went and whipped out $ 3.8 million dollars for an apartment. Nope, I'd still love you even if we woke up living under a bridge tomorrow.” Bruce frowned and tried to pull away from the ruffling motions. “Unlikely. Now stop that.” At the faint growl in his voice, Tony paused his mischievous wrongdoing and glanced up, mock-pensive.

“I do admit I'd miss Alfred's breakfast waffles. That pinch of vanilla...mmh.”  
With a strong grip around his waist, Bruce pulled him down and nestled him against his body.  
“Priorities. You have them.”

+

Tony was in for another surprise at the airfield two days later.

“Did I just read that correctly? Massachusetts?” From where Bruce had already taken a seat at the window of the Gulfstream, he looked up, features steeled into firm resolution. “Only this time, I am going to handle it without any of your preambles.” Slipping into the opposite chair, Tony reached for the seat belt. “Element of surprise, eh? That might actually work. Then again, he is your flesh and blood. He's gonna hate it.”

Wayne only cast him a smirk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The apartment in question:  
> https://one57.com/availability  
> https://one57.com/pdf/floorplans/ONE-33-38D.pdf


	68. Chapter 68

They took a rental car from the airfield to Phillips Academy. An inconspicuous black Mercedes E 300 that Bruce both picked and drove, eliciting a dissatisfied grumble from his husband. From his place on the passenger seat, Tony kept on eying a Dodge Challenger in orange-metallic until they had left the parking lot, mumbling something about missed opportunities. Bruce adjusted the rearview mirror with meticulous fingers. 

“You can go and buy a muscle car if you feel the need for driving one.”

Tony put his elbow into the small nook between window and door. “Which would have made this the perfect time and place for a test drive, but nooo, you chose this... coroner ride.” Bruce slid deeper into the driver's seat and put his foot down to accelerate as they entered the interstate. “At least it comes in black.” A very age-inappropriate sound escaped Tony's mouth. “Like your sense of humor, clearly.”

After 45 minutes, due to heavy traffic, they parked outside the old and imposing grounds of the boarding school. Engine turned off, Bruce sat still and clasped the steering wheel in between both hands, staring ahead. When Tony cleared his throat, it shook him out of his thoughts. "I won't be long." Their eyes met. Tony cocked his head with a little squint. “I am staying here, aren't I?” A nod. “Give me ten minutes.”

Now the squint turned into a frown. “Ten? This isn't one of your stealth ops, BB. Take your time.” Wayne glimpsed at his Reverso classic watch, brows drawn together as he pondered his objection. “Fifteen minutes.” He ignored the eye roll that followed, unbuckled, and exited the car. Tony stayed behind and watched him march into the courtyard, tall and with long strides, a bit as if he was walking into a war zone.

Fighting back his own nervousness, Tony fumbled with the radio until he found a rock station, pulled up his phone, and browsed through his chats.

+

A tall shadow blocked the ray of sun that had just pushed through the sky that was enshrouded in gray clouds. “Damian.” Said boy looked up from the swing he sat on. His father's glasses flashed in the light. “It's time that we talk.” Green eyes narrowed to slits as Damian Wayne brought the swing to a slow stop with one foot. They stared at each other for several heartbeats until the boy's expression turned into one of youthful hubris.

“You may sit down.”

He tilted his head at the second, empty swing next to him. Much to his surprise, Bruce Wayne stepped forward without further ado and lowered himself into the playground equipment. Damian stared at his father's designer shoes right within the huge sand pit underneath the swings, and the way his broad physique did not fit into the confines of the swing. Thus, Bruce leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.

Silence erupted. Eventually, Damian put his feet down, building up momentum, and set the swing into motion once more. “I knew you'd be back.” His voice held scorn. Bruce said nothing, even as Damian steadily gained height. “So what is your excuse?” Wayne Sr. eyed the neat campus and its many inhabitants for the longest time. “There is none.” At that, Damian curled his fingers tighter around the metal swing chains.

The force of his swinging movement created an air draft that brushed along Bruce's hair and the hem of his cashmere sport coat. The billionaire cleared his throat. “It was wrong of me to send you away.” Both father and son kept their gazes ahead. “Yes, it was.” It was followed by yet another moment where neither of them spoke. The only change was a steady faltering in altitude as Damian stopped feeding into the motion.

Wayne's eyes narrowed. “Do you want to come home?” At that, Damian let go of the swing and jumped off, using its forwarding motion to land several feet away with an agile and effortless move. “No.” Nothing on Bruce's face moved. Damian's scowl turned feral as the boy stepped up to him in his full 4'9 glory. “Not yet. I have just obtained utter dominance over the dormitory. I cannot show any weakness now.”

Almost in slow motion, his father's thin lips curved into a small, eerily identical smirk. “That sounds reasonable.” Once more they were seizing each other up until an airily whistled melody interrupted their staring match from behind. “You two done the tear-jerking reunion scene yet? I am starting to get hungry.” Damian's sharp, green eyes shot him a scathing look. “Neither father nor I have shed a single tear.”

Tony stepped close and ruffled his hair. “No, Lord Hades, I know you only bask in the tears of living souls, not shed them yourself.” As Damian swatted his hand away Tony eyed his husband's crimped physique. “That looks painful, BB, think about your back.” Peeling himself free out of the swing with utmost grace, Bruce shook the sand off his derby shoes. “I am younger than you in case you forgot.”

His cheeky-looking husband made a few tutting noises. “Maybe baby, but it all boils down to the mileage.” He then focused back on their son. “So, when are you going to strike camp here?” Damian pushed out his jaw. “I am not. I want to stay.” Tony's eyes flickered over to Bruce's stoic countenance. “Damn, was I too early? I thought you guys had hashed things out. D'you want me to take a walk around the block, or...?”

Wayne gave a shake of his head. “It's fine. We have spoken about this.” He turned to look at his son. “This is your decision, Damian. You know you are free to come home whenever you like.” The boy looked at him with the same inherited seriousness and nodded. Tony blinked at the actual double vision and cleared his throat. “Okay, okay, but what about a family Thanksgiving dinner, Dami? Make that a veggie turkey for you.”

The boy scrunched up his nose as he pondered the offer.  
“Swear.”  
To the slightly reproachful glance of his husband, Tony Stark-Wayne spit into his hand.  
  
“Deal.”

+

Alfred Pennyworth made his way down in the metal elevator, a bucket in each hand. One was filled with water, the other with cleaning utensils and products. Seeing all of the Manor's current inhabitants were out and about, he had decided to give the house a thorough cleaning. All of the maids had been instructed to focus on the upper floors, leaving him to take care of the often neglected, clandestine southern part.

Humming a quaint little melody out of the opera Carmen to himself, the butler put the bucket with water on an even patch of concrete ground and the other bucket on the empty chair. As he dug through all of his equipment, a voice interrupted his quiet humming. “Hello, Sir.” Alfred paused and looked at the lifeless console of the supercomputer, eyebrow raised. “And who might you be?”

A bright blue visualization of audio waves on a screen flickered along with the synthetic voice. “I am Jarvis, Mister Stark's artificial intelligence program. I have recently been installed to ensure the overall safety of this venue and its usual inhabitants. Please allow me to initiate a fast security protocol check on your person.” Alfred let the feather duster sink with a pensive look. “Your accent seems quite familiar.”

“Indeed, Sir. I was programmed by Mister Stark to sound like the greatest butler in the history of all butlers.”

Pennyworth managed to hide his smile and leaned forward, both hands curled around the cleaning tool. “While I am humbled at such praising classification, I do believe that Mister Stark has not met a lot of butlers in his life.” The blue animation displayed a pie chart that filled up in the matter of seconds. “Security scan complete. Pennyworth, Alfred. Clearance level: High. Access level: High. Potential threat level: None.”

Said man looked amused. “Why, thank you. Am I allowed to continue my regular cleaning routine?”

“Most certainly, Sir. Do you mind me keeping you company? As an AI system, my major functions are to obtain new data, respectively by interacting with human beings and their behaviorism, and to be of support in every situation. Sadly, the input has been rather limited to Mister Stark's occasional conversations with me.” Alfred inclined his head as he began to dust around the many switches and buttons of the panels.

“As a system of artificial intelligence, are you able to provide information on all sort of topics?” He wrinkled his nose at the strewn crumbs of Tony's favorite chocolate chip cookies which greeted him next to the right-panel keyboard. All around the computer screen was an armada of yellow sticky notes filled with either doodles or technical equations. One note showed a heart with cupid's arrow and the inscription T+B.

“Provided the source of the information is not encrypted, I can offer you insight on any given topic of your preference in the matter of seconds, or minutes, depending on the size of data. I am also capable of creating and keeping schedules vital to the daily organization of an individual, or an accumulation of individuals.” Alfred put the duster aside in favor of a rag he dropped into the bucket of soapy water.

“By which, I reckon, you are talking about a family.” Jarvis paused for a micro-second. “Understood, Sir. Uploading 'Family Organization' into my mainframe. I am pleased to find this encounter of the beneficial, informative kind.” With bright yellow rubber gloves protecting the fabric of his livery, Alfred reached into the bucket and wrung out the wet rag. “I am glad to be able to shed a bit of light on your learning process.”

As if on cue, the cave's generators hummed and the overhead floodlights turned the whole scenery into a brighter shade. “Would you like me to also provide some sort of efficient musical background animation to facilitate your cleaning efforts, Sir?” Alfred paused wiping down dusty screens and fingerprint powder specks from desktops and tilted his head. “I would not be averse to a morale booster of the audible kind.”

Upon the first classic sounds of Les Toreadors from Georges Bizet's Carmen Suite No. 1 blaring out of the speakers of the reverberating cave, the butler's features morphed into an honest and delighted smile.

“I do have a feeling you and I will get along splendidly.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mental image of Michael Caine alias Alfred whirling around the cave like a Tasmanian cleaning devil to the sounds of this 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bM9OaCnOv8c
> 
> is going to stick with me for the rest of this story. It is most likely not what Georges Bizet had in mind.


	69. Chapter 69

Bruce all but crawled out of the Tumbler after a night of strenuous patrolling. The cowl was lined with sweat as he tugged it off and slipped it onto the driver's seat, leaving his hair plastered to his head. “Good morning, Mister Wayne. It is 2:28 am. Sunrise will be at 6:43. Your first meeting will be at 9:15 with Mr. Lammers Jr from Legal. There are currently no more criminal activities listed in the GCPD protocols.”

At the unknown voice, Bruce slowed his stride and scanned the screens of his mainframe with narrowed eyes. “Computer?” Several wave lines moved on one of the screens. “I prefer the term artificial intelligence program, Sir.” Bruce tilted his head, prompting the tendons in his neck to give a satisfying crack at the first liberating movement since the past three and a half hours in the Batsuit.

“You are - Jarvis.”

“Correct, Sir. At your service. Allow me to briefly scan your vitals and current state of physical health to file a mission report.” Sensing a trap, Bruce leaned across the console. “Permission denied. Override request.” The AI paused. “Password requested for override.” Bruce gnawed off a dry patch of skin from his bottom lip. “TLB/2919.” It was a shot in the dark, and Bruce held his breath for a second.

“Password valid. Vital scan and reporting protocol abandoned. New protocol standard requested.”

Nodding along, the Gothamite lowered himself into his seat, suppressing a wince, and began to hack into one of the keyboards. “I want you to keep a close confinement protocol on all activities here in the cave.” He typed in several subroutines as he spoke until the British voice module confirmed his programming efforts. “Close confinement protocol enabled for registered user: Wayne, Bruce.”

Before a victorious smirk crossed Bruce's tired features, Jarvis spoke again. “Upon Mister Stark's explicit request, however, I am yet to be installed in your combat vehicle.” Bruce scoffed. “Why would I want that?” Instead of a vocal answer, Jarvis popped up a rendered 3D model of the Tumbler on his main screen. The digital vehicle began to rotate as several marked spots on it began to blink.

“According to Mister Stark, the specifications that should be added to your armored vehicle include highly beneficial features like the following: Overall nanotech-enhanced camouflage, 360° outside video surveillance, atmospheric sampling devices, thermal-resistant coating, and in-seat medical diagnosis.” All sarcastic, the Gothamite nodded and began to tug and tear at his barbed gloves.

“Someone's been watching too many Knight Rider reruns.”  
  
At that, the Tumbler model vanished. “Cross-reference to television series detected. Uploading all 90 aired episodes of four seasons onto the server.” Bruce's brows creased as he looked up. “Wha... - No!” The bright blue loading beam on Jarvis' monitor stopped. “Request unclear.” Putting his elbows on the console, Bruce palmed his face, grimacing at the disgusting smell of sweated rubber in them, and raised his head again.

“Enough of this. I am going to take a shower now, and there better not be any surveillance feeds of that.”  
Jarvis' bluish beam flickered in an unsteady motion for a few seconds.  
“Understood, Sir. Going into sentinel mode. Good night.”

+

Bruce limped into the kitchen, careful not to make any sound.

After his brief shower in the cave's basic facilities, he was now dressed in slacks and a shirt, his feet bare against the black and white checkered tiles. He stopped short at the sight of Alfred Pennyworth sitting at the kitchen island, reading a book in the dim light of its range hood lamp. The butler wore a distinguished burgundy robe over his pajamas, a pair of glasses, and a look of concern once their eyes met.

“Rough night, Sir?”

He slipped a bookmark into the thick volume to go with his question. Wayne grunted and reached for the freezer, steadying himself with a hand against the nearby counter. “The usual. Why are you still up?” After watching his protege rummage around frozen vegetable packages for the longest time, the butler reached past him to take out the wanted ice pack with expert fingers. “Call it having a hunch.”

Alfred then wrapped the ice pack in a dishtowel and handed it over, noticing how Wayne pressed it to the left side of his ribs with a grimace of pain. “Broken?” Bruce negated. “Just a bruise.” Suppressing a sigh, Pennyworth opened and reached into the fridge again and produced an isotonic sports drink from the door shelf. “Let me have a look.” Wayne took the small bottle and put it on the counter. “Alfred, really...”

The butler made a disapproving sound. “Sit down and kindly pull off that shirt.” Too tired to protest, Bruce lowered himself on a bar stool, albeit with slow, careful movements. He put the ice pack aside and reached for the hem of his shirt. It came off with a considerable grunt of pain and resulted in a dismayed sigh on Alfred's part when the butler saw the ugly purple contusions mapping out all over the left side of his torso.

“Oh, Master Bruce.”

At the compassion in Alfred's voice, said billionaire frowned. “Not a word to Tony.” Pennyworth hummed. “Is that why you chose to come up here to lick your wounds? To not have his creation interfere?” Bruce shot him a disgruntled look at the dignified judgment and began to fumble with the seal of the bottle until it came off. “Creation?” Alfred disappeared from his line of view and left him to space out for a while.

When the butler returned, it was with a bottle of Tiger Balm liniment in his hand. “Jarvis is what I believe Master Anthony named him.” Tender hands then began to massage some of the liquid balm onto the mangled skin, careful not to provoke further hurt but at the same time making sure that a rib hadn't punctured a lung. Soon, the kitchen smelled of menthol, spike lavender, and eucalyptus oil. 

“So you do know.” Bruce stared ahead, trying to block out the pain that flared up despite Alfred's best efforts. Eventually, he smirked. “I haven't imagined the smell of Lysol after all.” The older man pursed his lips. “Why, Sir, even a high-tech vigilante's lair like yours needs to be sanitized every once in a while. Especially yours.” He stopped for a moment to allow his protege to take a sip of the cool isotonic drink.

The plastic bottle crackled from the force of Bruce's grip. “Have you seen Tony's suit?” Alfred poured more liniment into his palm and moved to another discolored area of his mangled torso. “Most certainly, Sir. Way before my cleaning spree even.” Bruce mulled over that for a while, eyes closing at the seeping bone-weariness that lured him in. “I still don't like the thought of him inside that thing. It's too dangerous.”

Pennyworth screwed the bottle shut and put a gentle palm on Bruce's shoulder. “Kindly wait until it has dried before you put on your shirt, Sir.” Hazel eyes blinked open as the butler walked over to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet. “From what I understood, the armored suit is able to compensate for any potential shortcomings in battle.” That earned him a sharp look of reproach. “Tony is not a soldier, Alfred.”

All calm, the butler washed his hands with meticulous motions and dried them off on a dishtowel. “Neither are you, Sir, if you don't mind me saying so.” Bruce reached for his isotonic drink and guzzled more liquid. “I have training. Tony hasn't.” The butler hung back the towel and reached for the medical cabinet on the wall. “Very well, Sir. Just remember there are people out there who care about you and your well-being.”

He shook out two pills from a white bottle and handed them to him.

“Now off to bed with you, Master Bruce.”

+

It was around 3 am when Bruce finally slid under the covers. A mop of dark hair emerged as Tony rolled onto his side, half-asleep but ready to be spooned. When the anticipated spooning did not take place, he groggily raised his head. “BB? Y'alright?” Laying flat on his back, Bruce ran a hand through his curly hair. “Just a bit sore.” Tony pushed himself up on an elbow and rubbed the back of his other hand over his eyes.

“Fuck, why didn't...” He groped for the nightstand and squinted when the screen of his phone came to life. “Jarvis is supposed to let me know.” Bruce reached out to take the device and pressed a button to which the screen went dark again. “He and I came to an... agreement.” He put the phone aside and eased back into his pillow. Tony kept on hovering above, straining to see into the dark and sniffing at the herbal smell.

“How bad is it?”

Despite the medication haze kicking in, Bruce still winced as Tony's fingers brushed along his body. “Bruised rib. Alfred took care of it. Painkillers and sleep will do the rest.” A soft curse. “That's not how it goes, BB.” Tony's voice was part anger, part helplessness as he, too, laid back down. “That's exactly how it goes. On my terms. I don't need another mother hen in this house, especially not an electronic one.”

When Tony grumbled into his pillow, Bruce's hand reached out to clasp for his under the cover. “Did you know Alfred has already met his digital counterpart?” A pause. “No, he never told me, the sly fox. And here I was thinking Jarvis had a glitch. Lately, his playlist features a lot classical opera songs for whatever strange reason.” Bruce suppressed a yawn. “That cannot hurt. Your taste in music is, frankly, horrendous.”

Tony harrumphed. “Stay in my good graces. I can easily program Jarvis to play the Imperial March whenever you get in and out of the Tumbler, y'know.” Long fingers poked into his side. “Wrong side of the force.” Tony grabbed his hand and stilled his invasive motions.

“Nerd.”

“Still kiss me goodnight?”

Tony did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit for Tony's ideas for the Tumbler fully go to the creators of 'Knight Rider' and their idea of the Knight Industries Three Thousand (= K.I.T.T.)  
> http://knight-rider.wikia.com/wiki/K.I.T.T._(Popular_Mechanics_Specs)


	70. Chapter 70

One late Sunday morning in September, a shimmery off-white colored envelope arrived at the Manor via mail. Alfred had dropped it off in Tony's curious hands after breakfast, and the latter flipped the envelope around after reading it was addressed to Mr. Tony Stark-Wayne and Mr. Bruce Wayne simultaneously. Upon discovering the name of the sender, Tony broke into a wide grin.

He saved his latest draft on a sonic fire extinguisher and got up to head inside from where he had been enjoying Gotham's rare sunshine on the terrace. Bruce was not in his office, which led Tony straight over to the gym. As predicted, he had been right. With a casual rap on the door, Tony burst into the large room. “We've got mail!” He paused to take in the scenery in front of him. “... are you serious?”

Right in the middle of the padded floor, Bruce Wayne was currently in the motions of attacking a panting Tim. Huge frown in between his brows, Tony watched the boy dip his chin low, breathing hard, and tried to keep his footing at the relentless jabs coming his way. “Bruce, sweetie, please stop beating up our son.” Father and son glimpsed into his direction before Wayne swung the rectangular training pad in his hand again.

With a dull thud, Tim hit the mattresses. “Up.” At the growled command, the boy rolled with the force of the blow, arms up, sprang to his feet and landed a solid five-hit-combo of kicks and punches right into the soft pad. Only then, Wayne drew back. “Good.” Tony crossed his arms and ankles, leaned one shoulder against the door frame and whistled an appreciative tune.

“... Tim, sweetie, I'd say please do not stop beating up your dad, but I gotta interrupt for a sec.”

The boy peeked up at the tall physique of his father. Bruce nodded and assumed a neutral stance. “Time.” Wayne then looked at his husband. “What is it?” Tony waved the ivory-colored item in his hand. “This just in. Its addressed to us both, so I wanted to open and read it together with you.” Tim, still breathless, looked quite grateful for being let off the hook and was quick to snatch his towel, water bottle, and phone from the side.

Tony held up his hand for a high-five as he passed him by, followed by a sniff at the cloud of teenager sweat that followed. “Go take a shower.” A hollered “Yeah”, followed by stomping sounds of sock-clad feet. Stark leaned his torso out of the gym's open door. “And don't use my hair products again! You've got your own!” No answer. “TIMMY!” A very distant, sullen “Yeah, yeah” was heard. Tsking to himself, Tony leaned back into the gym.

“All hail puberty. And thanks to you, he's gonna be able to kick my butt and take all of my stuff without asking soon. I don't know if I approve.” It was said with the right amount of humor. Bruce gave a lopsided smirk. “Feel free to teach him some of your Wing Chun techniques.” A high-pitched sound escaped the back of Tony's throat. “I'm not crazy. Nope, I wanna stand at least some sort of chance.”

After he had stowed the pad away, Bruce then walked over to where his husband stood. “What's that?” All ecstatic, Tony presented him with the sender's address and ripped the lid off with care. A laminated card was inside, with a pale pink frame and a black and white picture of two tiny feet being held in between a female and a male hand. Tony opened it and grinned to himself until an impatient throat was being cleared.

“Well? Read it aloud.”

“Dear Uncle Tony and Uncle Bruce, I need two extra pairs of hands to help me grow, and yours are the best, cause mummy and daddy told me so. Will you be my godparents? Love, Ava Josephine Hogan.” Tony cooed and handed over the card for him to look and read for himself. Bruce wiped his fingers on his track pants first. “We should get something. A present.” Tony nodded and took the card back from him.

“I can't wait to spoil that little nugget rotten. She's going to get everything I've missed on out with our boys!”

“Okay, but Tony--”

“... like horses, princess castles in pink, a whole petting zoo, we've got the premises for it after all, and...”

“Tony--”

“What?”

“The baby is only several weeks old. Calm down.”

“It's just that I'm super excited. Aren't you excited? The first girl in the family.” Bruce cast him a pointed look as he started to stack plates on each side of the bar of his bench press rack. “That's technically incorrect as you know.” Tony mimicked his look and cocked a hip. “Wow, miseryguts. The little cootie patootie may not share your fortune or my fame, but she's gonna be treated like royalty around here.”

The 45 lbs steel plates clanked as Bruce kept on adding weight. “Fame, huh?” Tony raised his chin with a smirk that spoke of seduction and stepped up to straddle the bench and lean upon the bar into Bruce's direction. “Yeah. See, I know a handsome fella who called me a genius and who recently threatened an entire company to stay away from his golden boy or something along those lines, don't quote me on it.”

Wayne fixated the plates with a metal clamp on each side and walked around the rack. “While you're here, I think you could benefit from a little workout, too.” His hands slid on the metal rod, left and right of Tony's body, thus effectively trapping him between his body and the bar. The latter glimpsed down, calculated a total weight of 315 lbs, and found Bruce's grin too wide for his liking.

“Ahhh, I'd love to, but...” Big brown eyes darted around until a Cheshire grin appeared on his face. “... I think I should give Pepper and Happy a call, say thanks for the card and the honors and, well, you know.” He stretched the final syllable of the last word and was quick to duck away and hop one-legged over the bench. With a smirk, Bruce let him escape and slid under the bar.

+

_The_Starkster 10:49  'We are happy to announce the latest addition to the family!'_

_The_Starkster 10:49  [file sent avajhogan.jpg]_

_RichieRich 10:51  'you were pregnant??' (shocked emoji)_

_TWayne 10:52  'Wait, what?!?!' (two shocked emojis)_

_DemonDami 10:53  'it's all wrinkly, yuck' (puke emoji)_

_The_Starkster 10:54  'I shouldn't have bought you that phone'_

_TWayne 10:54   'WORD!!!1!'_

_DemonDami 10:55  'SHUT UP YOU RePR0bAT!!!!!!!!!'_

_TWayne 10:55  'Hahaha, you don't even know how to spell that'_

_The_Starkster 10:55  'I feel a strong dry spell on allowance coming up, guys...'_

_RichieRich 10:56  'Okay, so what's going on?'_

_The_Starkster 10:56  'Your dad and I are newly appointed godfathers' (wide grin emoji)_

_RichieRich 10:56  (party popper emoji) 'Congratulations!'_

_RichieRich 10:56  'PS. I'm not doing any babysitting!'_

_TWayne 10:57  'lol'_

_DemonDami 10:57  'what does that mean?'_

_TWayne 10:58  'laughing out loud. Who's the reprobate now!? (laugh-cry emoji)_

_DemonDami 10:59  'I will kick your ass when I come home (devil emoji)_

_TWayne 11:00  'you can try but I got training now, you little (ape emoji)'_

_The_Starkster 11:00  '… and just like that, each of your allowances is down $5. My pleasure. More for Ava ;)_

_RichieRich 11:01  'Did you just use a smiley??' (facepalm emoji)_

_The_Starkster 11:02  'I think I need to speak with your father about disinheriting all of you. Heathens.'_

+

“Tony!”  
  
Pepper's welcome hug was heartfelt. Even a few weeks post-childbirth, she was almost back to her svelte physique, wearing a loose-fitting tunic over a pair of faded slim jeans. She eyed the parked up Audi R8 in front of their house over his shoulder. “And look at your fancy ride.” He put a hand upon the package at his feet to keep it upright as he followed her gaze. “It was Bruce's wedding gift.” She pursed her lips.

“Happy is going to flip a lid.”

“Why, what did he get you?” Avoiding Pepper's affectionate smack to his chest, Tony chuckled. “I'll gladly give him a test ride. Is he here?” She looked at the watch around her slim wrist. “In an hour. Maybe you'll see him once he gets home after work.” Tony nodded. “I might stay as long. Also, I come bearing gifts.” He bent down and lifted the big box in colorful wrapping.

“This is from Bruce and me. He sadly couldn't come along today, board of director's meeting and all that. But he hopes to meet her soon. If anything at Christmas. You're coming for dinner, aren't you?” Pepper steered him and his cargo into the Hogan's living room. It was held in warm colors with a lot of potted plants and several tasteful paintings on the walls. A bassinet stood next to the couch and table.

“Happy's parents are okay with that, as long as they get to see her, too. So we can't stay overnight.” She motioned for him to come closer. Tony put the package aside and leaned in over her shoulder to look at the sleeping newborn inside the bassinet. His mouth spread into a soft smile. “Hi there, beautiful.” Upon Pepper's encouragement, he dared to stroke with the back of his index finger over a little cheek.

“You could stay and take a jet in the morning. Less strenuous for all of you.” He was whispering, eyes resting on the infant. Pepper gave a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh. “Tony, I can't accept that.” Both looked into the bassinet as a small sound erupted. “No big deal, Pep. Anything for my favorite redheads. Think about it.” Tony cast loving eyes on his goddaughter who seemed to be waking up.

“Though hair's not what I would call it. More of a whispy halo.” Pepper nudged him with faux indignation. “It grows fast, you'll see.” He hummed. “Wonder if she'll have Happy's curls.” Pepper grinned. “He keeps them short and trimmed ever since you called him Curly Fry.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, that's been forever.” To distract her from bringing up some of his old and embarrassing nicknames, Tony pointed at the parcel.

“Now c'mon, unpack so we can see if she likes it.” He sat down on the couch next to her and watched her fiddle with the Scotch tape strips and frilly wrappers with the longest time, his chin up on his fist, elbow on the headrest. “I just hope we got this remotely right.” At the sight of the play place activity gym inside, Pepper gasped. “My goodness, you guys shouldn't have.” He shrugged but bent down to help getting it out of the box.

“I actually wanted to build something myself, but Bruce the spoilsport said it needs to be childproof.” Pepper crumpled the wrappings into a tight ball and threw them aside. “I guess I don't have to worry about you two anymore then?” Tony twirled a stray piece of cardboard between two fingers. “We've started over. Things are different now, but not necessarily bad. Just different.” He looked up with for once serious eyes.

“Thanks for reminding me back then. And for kicking my a... lmighty.” His eyes slid over to the bassinet. “Darn it, I think I need a swear jar around here in the future.” Pepper grinned and slapped the side of his leg. “You're welcome, and that can be arranged.” Together they spread out the mat and attached the bars overhead. Sitting cross legged on the carpet, Tony pulled a face at the electronic toy bird sounds.

“Yikes. They definitely could've gotten that one better.”

Soft wailing erupted from the bassinet, and Pepper got up to take her daughter out of the bed. “Shhh, sweetie, look what uncle Tony has brought along. You want to say hi to uncle Tony?” The latter scampered to his feet and brushed his hands on his sides. He then spread his arms the way Pepper told him to and looked down at the bundle she inched into his arms. “How do we look?” He beamed down at the curious little face.

“Yep. You're some arm candy alright.” Pepper reached in the back pocket of her jeans. “Wait, I gotta get this one.” She pointed her phone at him and took several pics. “I'll send them to you later on.” All done, she slipped the phone aside on the coffee table and took her daughter back to ease her onto the mat. They watched the infant inspect her new surroundings with inactive puzzlement, eyes darting around.

“It will take a while until she really starts discovering things.”  
Pepper sounded apologetic but Tony only nodded with a small smile.  
“One thing at a time works best anyhow.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's and Tim's workout is based on this Krav Maga bully defense class:  
> https://youtu.be/xTmLn9c9H9w?t=163
> 
> Baby present:  
> https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TFBWAZI/ref=twister_B01BVJ115G?_encoding=UTF8&th=1


	71. Chapter 71

Richard yawned and threw his backpack down between his desk and the trash can filled to the brim with crumpled paper. He was yet to finish his thesis on the social changes of American cities; a task more tedious than he had assumed at first. Independent work had seemed fine until deadlines loomed up. Babs who was studying computer science at Gotham University always mocked him for choosing sociology.

Even if he hated to admit it, his choice had been a rather spontaneous decision. The prospect of becoming a major and entering a wide range of fields from investment banking to law to medicine to education to political activism were what had prompted Richard to give it a try. He knew he was not as gifted in engineering matters as Tony, and not as versed or interested in business economics as his father.

As he powered up his notebook, he checked his mobile for any new chats he might have missed out upon during his last two courses. Apparently, Damian had caught a mild flu bug and was being pampered and coddled at home while Tim and their father seemed to be bonding over Tim's ongoing self-defense training. Not that Richard was jealous, just slightly annoyed at his brother's gushing about their dad.

With more force than necessary, Richard logged into his emails and simultaneously opened the web-based messenger to chat on a big screen. More often than not, both Tim and Tony had tried to mediate between him and his father, with little to no success. By now, Richard was not even sure how things would ever get back to being normal between them. The more time passed, the harder it had become to make amends.

He sent Babs a sunglasses emoji upon reading her wishing him a great day and that she was able to video chat with him after 8:30 tonight. Switching tabs back to his emails, Richard stopped and blinked at his inbox. Among his five latest unread emails, out of which two consisted of hot deals for an online sneaker and a comic book store, there was a free slushie coupon as well as his professor's answer on his thesis.

The last one was a mail without a subject, its sender reading Bruce Wayne.

Richard's finger hovered over the trashcan symbol for a few seconds before he exhaled through his nose and double-clicked upon the mail.

_  
Richard,_

_Organizational matters require to know about your attendance on Thanksgiving._

_Regards,_

_Bruce Wayne_  
_Chief Executive Officer_  
_Wayne Enterprises_

  
Gritting his teeth at the formal signature of his father's company mail account, Richard pressed the reply button.

_  
Don't bother, I got plans._

_R._

  
As soon as he had hit send, he shoved the mouse away and stood up to dig through his discarded backpack for the library book for his independent work. He browsed through the index for a while, skimming along topics relevant to his thesis, one eye always on the still open email tab. After twenty minutes, there were no new emails, so Richard clicked back into the messenger tab and drew up Babs' chat window again.

_'Is it too late to accept your parents' Thanksgiving dinner offer (winking kissy emoji)?'_

+

“Can you turn that off.”  
Bruce's nettled voice broke through the chorus of 'Funky Town' which blared through the SUV.  
“Nope. Also, how about a little more enthusiasm in the back there, huh?”

Tony threw a cheeky glimpse into the rear view mirror as he let the engine of the beastly Hummer howl out at a red light. Their Thanksgiving dinner was going to take place at a posh skyscraper restaurant downtown, with a panoramic view upon Gotham's bayfront. So far, however, only two people seemed to look forward to it. “Very well spoken, Master Anthony.”

The butler who sat next to him on the passenger seat then turned around to examine the three sullen faces in the back. “I do believe this is the first time in decades that there is no traditional dinner at the Manor.” Bruce Wayne, who was sitting right behind his husband, snorted. “I offered to have food delivered but you were having none of it.” A fatherly, benign smile crossed the older man's lips.

“No, Master Wayne, that would not have been the same, surely you see the difference.”

The billionaire cast annoyed eyes out of the window. Ever since Richard had canceled on them, in favor of an invitation from the Gordons as he came to learn from his sons, his mood was dour. Tim sat next to his father in the middle, looking like he, too, would rather be somewhere else. Stephanie had caught a cold which made her have to cancel on the dinner.

So far he had been unable to text her without risking either his brother or father peeking over his shoulders. “Are we allowed to order whatever we want?” He leaned forward, question directed at Tony. Damian who occupied the seat behind Alfred stopped sulking out of the window to also hear the answer. Stark glimpsed at him. “What is it that you want to eat, Timmy-Timmster? And don't say Twizzlers.”

“Burger and fries.”  
  
Next to him, his father put up his left elbow on the door, palmed his forehead and groaned softly. Up front, Tony's joyful mood never wavered. “I guess they can be persuaded to make a turkey burger and sweet potato fries for you. Your dad's throwing a lot of cash at them for a special evening, so I'm sure if we ask nicely...” He left the rest of the sentence in the open, waiting for his husband to chime in. “Isn't that right, BB?”

Again their eyes met in the rear-view mirror. Bruce forced himself to stop frowning into his palm.  
“I am sure there will be an alternative on the menu.”  
At Tim's timid smile, his father returned it, albeit brief.

“Cool, thanks.”

Tony kept 'Funky Town' on repeat for the rest of the drive, fingers drumming along on the wheel.

+

The restaurant was on the 20th  floor, their table in a secluded area close to the panorama windows overlooking the city. The dinner itself went fairly well. Tim got his turkey burger and sweet potato fries, and Damian actually seemed to like the vegetarian variation the cook had specifically put together for him. A minor food fight between the brothers was averted at the very last minute with Alfred's and Tony's help.

Bruce had been busy with his phone throughout the meal, despite the reproachful glances from his butler and his husband. “Lucius, Tanya, and the kids are not going to come over for Christmas. They are in Colorado this year.” Alfred nodded. “Chances for a white Christmas are higher in Aspen than in Gotham.” Tony stopped gazing out at the city lights that illuminated Gotham and reached for his soda.

“Forecasts have been optimistic for snow this winter. Not enough freeze to bust out the ice skates probably, but just enough to get a Holiday feel.” Alfred put the small jar of sauce aside and reached for his cutlery again. “This makes it mandatory to inquire about your ice skating abilities, Master Anthony.” To Bruce's amused sideways glance, Tony leaned back and put an elbow up on the backrest.

“Give me an appropriate ice rink and I promise you won't be disappointed.”

That was when people on the other side of the restaurant started to scream. Window panes got glazed over with ice, cracking under the strain before the glass panels started to burst, resulting in even more commotion. Bruce Wayne got to his feet, frowning as chaos erupted all around the restaurant. Tim mumbled something that sounded like "Whoa" while Damian lunged across their table and grabbed the turkey fork.

"We shall defend ourselves to the last drop of blood in our bodies."

Before he could go and cause anybody including himself real harm, Alfred took the item from him. “Well. Careful what you wish for, Master Anthony.” All composed Alfred put his napkin aside. Tony gulped. “Oh, s-” Pennyworth cast him a very poignant look as he urged the two boys to grab their jackets and scarfs. “--ugar honey iced tea.” Making eye contact with Bruce, Tony and he then shared a first, mutual thought.  
  
“Tower.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to come up with a canon college background for Dick but only found this bit about him going to Hudson University: https://biffbampop.com/2012/09/05/back-to-school-dick-grayson-goes-to-college/
> 
> This means I completely ad-libbed the sociology part, sorry. Part of me wanted to enroll him in a journalism class, which could have made for a hilarious internship at the Daily Planet scene, but apparently, there are no journalism courses at Princeton. So no Clark Kent cameo -.-
> 
> With putting Gotham roughly into New Jersey territory, this real-life restaurant served as an inspiration for the dinner location:  
> https://libertyhouserestaurant.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/13/2016/03/private-dining-LH-768x768.jpg


	72. Chapter 72

They shepherded their family through the overall ruckus out of the restaurant. On the streets, panic had spread at the sight of an approaching villain who wielded a strange-looking gun around, covering everything in his way under a thick glacial sheen. Bruce had to pick up a fascinated Damian who had stopped to stare at the spectacle and carried him over to the Hummer. There, Wayne remained standing by the driver's window.

“My office.”

His husband nodded and watched him sprint towards the employee entrance before he ignited the Hummer and maneuvered it through slippery streets and into the coded garage. Due to the public holiday, Wayne Tower was empty except for its security camera feeds and occasional sentry guards patrolling the perimeter. In fact, Alfred, Tony, and the boys encountered no one all the way up to Bruce's large office on the top floors.

The Gothamite caught up with them minutes later, carrying a secured suitcase. Tony followed him over into the private washing rooms of the CEO floor. “Good thing you have spares stored here. I can have Jarvis summon the suit for me from the cave via cognitive control, but it'll take a while.” Bruce frowned, shrugging out of his jacket. “You're not getting involved.” At his gruff objection, Tony raised a finger.

“As long as there's no real danger to you or the boys, that was the deal. And a giant slushie making monster is just that – real danger.” He blinked, distracted by the sight of Bruce's pale, muscular thighs just before they disappeared under the armored Nomex. “Victor Fries is an inpatient from Arkham.” Tony's eyes traveled up. “Who is more out than in at the moment, and who is fond of turning people into popsicles."

Undeterred, Bruce put on plate after plate. “I'm going to draw him away from the city and over to the harbor.” It was then that Tony put both hands on his chest plate, left and right of the bat symbol. “You're still not a hundred percent. Let me help!” Bruce's eyes warred with those of his husband for a few seconds. “As a plan B.” He bent down for a final kiss before his cowl came on, together with the barbed gloves and the utility belt.

When they stepped out of the washroom, all eyes immediately rested upon them. Tony realized it was the first time the boys had ever seen their father in disguise from close up. The Batman scanned their faces, nodded into Alfred's direction, and headed out onto Bruce Wayne's large private balcony with its view of the bay. Transfixed, Tim followed him to the patio door, eyes roaming all over the dark knight's armor.

“Vindica tibi urbem tuam. Pugna pro recto.” [Claim your city. Fight for what's right]  
It came out as an awed whisper. Much to his surprise, Batman stopped on the edge of the balcony and turned around, cape floating in the wind.  
"Usque ad diem mortis meae." [Until the day I die]

The Batman then leaped forward, letting gravity pull him down into the dark, dwindling abyss of the night. Eyes wide, Tim raced to the banister to see him fly off the skyscraper, spreading out a massive black cape. “That was SO. COOL.” Damian appeared next to him. “Father is not going to speak a dead language with you.” They glowered at each other until Alfred beckoned them inside and locked the reinforced glass doors.  
  
Tony motioned for the butler to come closer. “Alfred, I gotta go see what's cooking... ehh, freezing.” He glimpsed over at the boys who were still watching the spectacle through the panorama windows, noses pressed against the glass. “I know still owe them a come-clean but I'd rather not now, with Richie not here, and...” He exhaled. “... the situation doesn't really call for it tonight. Can you cover for me here while I... you know...”

The butler nodded. “I will take the young sirs back home as soon as the imminent danger has passed.” Grateful, Tony patted his arm. “Good. Tell them I had to stay here, take care of things, and had... work to do.” He paused and shook his head with a grimace. “God, I sound as bad as he did back in the days! That's what the world has come to.” Pennyworth gave him a warm, very regal smile. “It runs in the family, Master Anthony.”

+

By the time Tony had suited up and was ready to join the fight against the abnormality that was turning all of Gotham into an ice cube, Batman had taken the fight from downtown Gotham out to one of the bridges that connected Red Hook with West Chelsea. Victor Fries, a rather haggard creature in a strange getup Jarvis' scans identified as some sort of cryogenic suit, did not take his sudden appearance too lightly.

At the first volleys of ice shot his way, Tony laughed it off and kept on flying tight circles around him, providing an excellent distraction for Bruce to slice the cryogenic suit with a batarang and use an electric spark from the street lights high upon the bridge to knock Fries out. Before Tony was able to congratulate him, however, Jarvis started to blink a red alert category. “Sir, there is a potentially fatal buildup of ice occurring.”

Those were the final words of his AI before the HUD became dark. In an instant, Tony went down like a deadweight, crashing down onto the arched bridge construction, tumbling and sliding off the steep edge. All frantic, he tried to recover the system inside the dark shell, already doing mental calculations of how long he would be able to stay underwater without power when there was a sharp yank on his right arm.

It stopped his free fall and turned it into an upward pull until there was solid ground under him. Something got slapped on the side of his metal thigh, and Tony felt a small tremor or explosion going through his body, which resulted in bringing the suit back online. The light behind the eye slits came back on as the system started to reboot. The first thing Tony had visual with was the grim countenance of the Batman.

“I thought no team-ups?” His electronic voice was a bit hitched. The dark knight's mouth curled with in-character dismay. “Not a team-up. I saved your ass. Now we're even.” He hauled him up. Iron Man got to his feet with a few mechanic whirrs. “My hero.” At the soft murmur from behind the helmet, Bruce put a hand up and stowed away his grapple hook. “Leave the faceplate down. Potential eyewitnesses. Take a detour.”

Remains of ice crackled down the Iron Man suit's back as the thrusters powered up with a low-pitched whine.  
“I'll see you at home for a hero-worthy romp in the sheets.”  
With that, Tony ignited his jet-pack boots and shot up into the sky to disappear within seconds.

+

When Bruce arrived at the Manor thirty minutes later, he was favoring his right shoulder. Exiting their bathroom, Tony saw he was in pain even before he could school his features into a blank mask. “Let me see.” He threw the towel he had used to dry his hair aside. Bruce shook his head and sidestepped him. “It's fine.” Tony growled. “Don't 'It's fine' me, BB, you've defied over 400 lbs. of metal and flesh against gravity. Let me look.”

Much to his surprise, Bruce Wayne did not put up too much of a protest as Tony reached for the torn and sweat-laced button-down shirt he had worn underneath the Batsuit and helped him out of it. At the way he winced upon moving the joint, Tony harrumphed. “Fine, huh?” Tony's brows knitted together as Bruce looked down his arm and probed the tissue with the fingers of his left. “Already reset it. It'll be fine.”

Tony started shaking his head. “Holy crap, that's just the level of stupid-ass bravado shit I expect from you.” Wayne grimaced and let his hand sink. “Right back at you.” Dark eyes narrowed at him. “Say what?” Bruce's mouth thinned with anger and pain he refused to acknowledge. “You could have gotten seriously injured tonight. If I hadn't been able to catch you in time-” He frowned at everything and nothing in particular.

The silence stretched out between them until Tony gave a visible eye roll and spread his arms wide, Bruce's grimy dress shirt flapping along. “Then my suit would've been able to prevent any bigger harm, opposed to yours.” He made sure to roam his gaze along the many scars and bruises that littered Bruce's naked torso. “This conversation is not leading us anywhere.” With that, Wayne turned and headed for the bathroom.

Tony dunked his soiled shirt into the washing basket and flopped onto the mattress. After ten minutes, Bruce returned, equally showered and with brushed teeth. He then popped two small pills into his mouth and reached for the glass of water on his nightstand. “I had it under control, you know.” Tony yawned into the pillow, adrenaline fizzling out and leaving fatigue in its wake. “Mhm.”

Bruce's five o'clock stubble brushed his earlobe as he shifted onto his good shoulder. “Next time, stick to the plan.” A low chuckle. “I was plan B, BB.” Wayne extended his injured arm with care to place it over Tony's waist. “Not everything is a joke, Tony.” The latter twisted in his embrace just enough for Bruce to feel his breath on his face. “I know. Call it coping mechanism, okay?" A sleep-drunken kiss landed close to Bruce's mouth.

“Just don't get hurt, s'all I ask.”  
  
Instead of an answer, the billionaire pressed his nose into Tony's neck, inhaling deep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jarvis' line is from the Iron Man 1 movie. The defeating move on Mr. Freeze is inspired by the Arkham City game (which I haven't played myself, sadly)


	73. Chapter 73

On a gray and dreary morning mid-December, Bruce sat in his office at the Manor, bundled up in a thick cardigan, and clicked through a 40+ slide marketing plan presentation Lucius had sent him earlier. Ever so often, his gaze would wander up and over to the closed door, before he admonished himself to go back to reading. After the fifth time, he snorted in dismay at his lack of concentration and pressed the intercom.

“Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Wayne?”

“Where is Tony?”

“I believe Master Anthony is currently on the phone with someone called 'platypus' if I'm not mistaken, Sir.”  
Bruce made a small, almost too easy to miss, exhaling sound only Alfred knew to categorize as a laugh.  
“Has he... mentioned any plans for today?”

“Apart from having agreed to help out Master Tim with a blemish problem that seems to have occurred as of this morning, none that I know of.” Bruce sighed and rubbed a spot above his brow. “If Tim didn't eat so many sweets, he wouldn't have to deal with his skin breaking out all the time.”

“I do believe it is called puberty, Sir, and Master Anthony seems to have found a way to avert a bigger crisis with regards to both Master Tim's skin care routine and today's date with Miss Brown.” Suddenly, Bruce was glad for the presentation in front of him and he tapped a key to bring the laptop out of its energy-saving mode. “Let him know I want to see him once he and Colonel Rhodes finished talking.”

“Very well, Sir.”

+  
  
The familiar little rap and instant opening of his door an hour later gave Bruce a valid reason to interrupt the tedious task of having to leave annotations throughout the extensive presentation. Tony sauntered in, claiming his usual kiss and spot on the left side of Bruce's desk. “Taken care of everything?” Stark braced his palms flat on the tabletop behind him and nodded.

“Yeah, so platy... Rhodey is chickening out -again- with proposing to Carol, but he said they're coming over for Christmas, so that's a good thing. Oh, and I have taken the liberty to buy Calamine lotion. If you happen to run into a white-faced zombie outside on the corridor, it's our son.” Bruce listened despite being focused on trailing the strip of skin around Tony's knee that peeked out from ripped jeans with a fingertip.

“What would I do without you.” It was more of a murmur, however deeply appreciative, and it made Tony snicker. “Send Alfred to buy Calamine lotion. Also, that kinda tickles.” Wayne thus cupped his kneecap and met his husband's dark and affectionate glace. “You are always doing so much for us, which is why I wanted to do something for you today. I want to accompany you.” Tony's smile wavered the tiniest bit.

“To... where?”

Bruce rose from his chair to put his hands on each of Tony's shoulders. “Green-Wood Cemetery. An hour-long drive. We will take the Range Rover after lunch and be back for dinner around 5.” As soon as he had spoken, Bruce felt the slightest pull of muscles underneath his palms. Dark brown eyes darted around his office, glancing anywhere but at him. “I haven't really... it's been a while, honestly, I-...”

Tony blew out his cheeks with a nervous little laugh and slipped off the desk, away from the quasi-embrace.  
“... I don't even remember the grave number.”  
Bruce watched him fiddle with the drawstrings of his hoodie jacket. His smile turned soft.  
  
“No problem.”

+

Ice crunched under their boots as they stepped out of the SUV.

Bruce had been adamant about driving, and Tony remained a good but rather reticent passenger. A quick burial search had brought up Howard and Maria Stark's exact grave location, and even though Alfred suggested organizing a proper flower arrangement, Tony had denied. “Let's have a look over there.” He pointed over the roof of their Range Rover Sport at the flower shop across the street.

Equipped with a tasteful arrangement made from evergreen, they made their way inside the large cemetery. As expected during the winter months, the graveyard was mostly empty, except for a few stray visitors in the distance. Snow had fallen over the past few days, covering gravestones and their potential decorations. With a gloved hand safely encircled in Bruce's, Tony gripped the bouquet tighter and marched on.

As soon as they approached grave number 1621, Bruce loosened his grip on Tony's fingers to let him go first. “No, come.” It came out mumbled, and the grip around his gloved fingers tightened. Their breaths were visible in the crisp winter air of the misty day as Tony then bent down to drape the flower bed square across the double grave. “Mom, dad... Hi. Didn't make it for quite a while, huh? Sorry 'bout that.”

He rose with a sniff and stepped back. His fleeting glimpse at the Gothamite made a small smile appear on Tony's lips. “This is Bruce, my husband. Looks like I've hit jackpot after all.” He stopped to bite his bottom lip and stared at an elder couple passing by several rows away. “I know you always considered my homosexuality the biggest failure of your lives, but...” At that, Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, frowning.

Tony's eyes remained fixated on the weathered engraving of his father's name. “... I would've wanted you to meet him anyhow. Just to make tabula rasa. Because I'm not hiding anymore. I can finally be who and how I want to be.” He raised his head as a gust of cold winter air brushed over them and simultaneously reached up to cover the hand on his shoulder with his own. The smile that crossed his lips was a defiant, proud one.

“And guess what – he loves me back, despite everything.”

+

A slight snowfall set in on their way back, paired with a thickening fog. Bruce made sure to engage the terrain response system and set it to snow and ice. They remained silent until they were on the I-95 N and the Range Rover gained significant velocity. Both hands on the wheel, the billionaire kept his eyes on the road. “If I had known it was going to be such a dreadful experience, I wouldn't have pressured you to do this.”  
  
Tony's meanwhile glove-less left hand slipped upon his right thigh, and Bruce felt his wedding ring through the fabric.  
“You didn't and it wasn't. I'm... yeah, I'm glad we went.”  
Wayne cast him a brief but still insistent glance.  
  
“Family is not always blood, you know.”  
It resulted in a squeeze to his thigh.  
“I know.”

+

That evening, Bruce Wayne made slow, sensuous love to his husband in front of the roaring fire of their bedroom. At first, Tony hid behind his usual quips and jokes about clichés and polar bear rugs until Bruce managed to turn his wisecracks into gasps and moans, and cracked his brave facade open bit by bit. When Tony came after an erotic but torturous period of hovering on the edge of release, he actually started sobbing.

Bruce was there to hold, kiss, and caress him through the overload of emotions, unmindful of his own unattended arousal. Hiding his puffy face under an arm, Tony then sniveled and turned his head away. “Sorry.” A kiss to his throat. “Nothing to be sorry for.” Peeking up at the gentle expression, Tony brushed a thumb over one of Bruce's cheekbones. “I ruined your orgasm.” More kisses trailed the goatee line along his jaw.

“Not true.”

All of Tony's tries to return the favor were met with a strong hand clasping his wandering fingers. “Just relax.” Bruce pressed a kiss on the pulse point of Tony's wrist before he released it. The latter then wiped his eyes one more time and blinked long, damp lashes up. His mouth curved into a soft smile. “You're beautiful, you know.” Swallowing hard, Bruce said nothing, lowered his head, and reached for a box of tissues.

His husband allowed him to clean him up, watching the flickering flames cast enticing shadows all over Bruce's features. Tony's left hand came up and touched the bare spot of skin right above his heart. “I mean all of you.” Wrapped in a thin blanket, Bruce then shifted to spoon him and propped his head up on one arm. He ran his free hand over Tony's bare chest in slow circles as he stared into the fire over his shoulder.

Tony's head was resting in the crook of his elbow while his fingers drew patterns into the soft fabric of the faux-fur carpet. “Dad might have liked you – because of your status and money galore of course. Though he'd probably make jerk-like comments about how fags ruin the traditional moral values of the economy or something. Mom would've been sad you don't come with a uterus - she always wanted grandchildren.”

Bruce listened to the monotone voice with a deep frown in between his brows. Words failed him until he was able to make out Tony's soft, even breathing that told him he had fallen asleep. When the fire finally had died down to dark, glimmering ashes, the Gothamite dared to move and carried his husband over into the warm bed. Any thoughts Bruce had harbored of a quick patrol were abandoned when Tony became restless.

He thus relented to staying by his side, lying awake in the dark and watching Tony's expressive features twist in agony. Whatever non-pleasant dreams he had, his burred mumblings made no sense. Around 3:40 am, Tony finally stopped tossing and turning, and a restless Gothamite then proceeded to slip into a bathrobe and trotted into his office. The bright screen from his laptop made him squint into the darkness of the room.

_  
Richard,_

_I am not sure if you will read this, let alone respond.  
_

_In any case, you and the Gordons are invited to the Christmas dinner at the manor on the_ _24_ _th_ _._

_Maybe this will prove that you were right and I was wrong._

_Take care_

 


	74. Chapter 74

Christmas came, and Gotham turned out to play along with Tony's fervent wish for a little winter wonderland scenario. On the afternoon of the 24th, a fine sheen of freshly fallen snow sugared trees, lawns, and walkways all around Wayne Manor's premises. Pepper and Happy Hogan were the first guests to arrive via cab, both looking like death warmed over and pushing a crying infant along in a stroller.

“She's been crying for hours, but we couldn't leave her with Happy's parents, and I didn't want to cancel at such short notice.” It sounded apologetic. Bruce adjusted his glasses and squinted down at the newborn with a blank, scientific interest in the way her tiny face was all red, scrunched up, and distorted from ugly bawling.

“It's... fine.”

Tony's instant attempt at cheering his goddaughter up included pulling faces and making weird noises. It resulted in even greater wailing, and his husband to cast him an unimpressed, flat look. “Recent studies say infants need to be treated with developmentally appropriate content. I doubt babbling nonsense falls into that category.” Straightening back up, Tony put his arms upon his hips and huffed.

“I'd sure love to watch you try to cheer her up, Mister Grinch. For reals though, what do you know about babies? Last time I checked, I was still the nanny around here and you just the dashing, debonair billionaire who happens to have a good taste in men.” Thankfully, Rhodey's timely arrival via cab prevented their little bickering session to turn into a more serious quarrel.

Much to Tony's chagrin, however, his friend came alone, stating Carol was on standby over the holidays and that Gotham would have been too far from the next air force base for her to pop in even for an hour. Alfred then ushered all of them inside and proceeded to take coats, jackets, and baby accessories into capable hands.

As soon as everybody had gotten comfortable in the living room with its roaring fireplace and large Christmas tree, eggnog was served, as well as mulled cranberry apple cider, and caramelized hot chocolate. Around 4 pm, Damian was allowed to open one present after his utter dismay at having to wait until morning. Minutes later, he whooshed around the room with his latest RC monster truck, making everyone raise their feet.

A delicious smell already wafted down the halls of the Manor, and Alfred informed them food was going to be served in half an hour. Pepper's gaze followed Damian as she moved to sit next to Tony and Rhodey in a cross-legged position on the couch. Her husband sat opposite of them, browsing one of the many coffee table books about classic cars and slurping from his eggnog every now and then.

“He seems so at ease. Like a true 10-year-old.”

Tony nodded. “He's settled into his school. It really does him good being around others his age, and he's even made a few friends. Though, I fear, he scared them into being his friends. And he comes home every second weekend.” Their eyes flew over to where Tim and his girlfriend sat and listened to music, sharing a pair of earplugs. “Matter of time until Tim's going to a college outside of Gotham, too. At least they'll go together.”

Pepper watched her friend's solemn profile. “You sound wistfully nostalgic.” Tony hummed and sighed at the same time. “It's hard having to watch all of them go and spread their wings one by one, but hey, that's the way of life.” Another round of a whirring RC truck interrupted their conversation. The redhead suppressed a laugh at the way Tony tried to bribe Damian into letting him drive, only to end up with a flat-out refusal.

“The biggest challenge still is Richard and his rocky relationship with Bruce, though.” At Tony's words, Pepper looked into the merry circle. “He's not here tonight.” Tony checked his phone and gnawed on his bottom lip. “He's been invited for dinner, together with the Gordons. They should have long since arrived by now.” Before he had the chance to ask Alfred about any news regarding Richard's whereabouts, Rhodey leaned in.

“I'm sorry, but will you guys please look at that.”

James then pointed over to where Bruce Wayne had just entered the room, phone in hand and deeply engrossed in a conversation. In the crook of his left arm sat little Ava Josephine Hogan; safe and secure and completely devoid of tears or signs of an approaching crying fit. Plump, red-haired, and fully content at her current means of transportation, her tiny hands kept trying to grasp for the strange item in Bruce's hand.

Pepper shut her mouth after gaping at the odd pair for a while and shook her head. “I don't know how he does it, but it's a miracle. I am going to leave her here for, let's say a year, so Happy and I can get caught up on all the lost sleep of the past four months.” Her voice sounded incredulous and amused at the same time. Tony kept on regarding his husband and the baby in his arm with an appreciative glint in his eyes.

“He's always been a ladies' man. I really gotta watch out.”

Just then Ava burped out a batch of milk-colored foam onto Wayne's anthracite sweater. Stopping his stride, Bruce raised an eyebrow at the infant who went right back to tugging on his chest. He ended the call, stowed the phone, and held the happily gurgling baby up and away from him with a Batman-worthy scowl. At that, little Ava shrieked out, full of infantile joy, and stretched both her chubby arms out into his direction.

Roaring laughter from the couch erupted. The billionaire pulled a face, eyes narrowing at the sight of his husband and his best friends who were torn between laughing themselves silly and putting up pitying looks. One of Wayne's eyebrows arched up from behind his glasses as he focused on the mother of his goddaughter. “I need some assistance.” His dry tone prompted Pepper to rise with a contrite expression.  
  
“Sorry, Bruce.”

She took her daughter from him and headed for the bathroom to wash and redress her, Alfred waited until the infant was tucked into her mother's grip until he went at the blemish with a wet rag. “I have already put out a fresh pullover upstairs for you, Sir. In the meantime, I shall go and fetch Miss Hogan a fennel tea.” Tony, still grinning from ear to ear, watched his husband getting dabbed at by his butler.

“No more cashmere for you tonight, BB. Hey, wear that sweater I got you for Christmas, will ya.” Bruce shot him a rotten look. “I'd rather have all my cashmere spewed upon before choosing that... abomination.” Stark batted his dark lashes. “Pretty please with cherries on top?” Another round of chuckles, even if Wayne did not chime in. Once he had left to change upstairs, Happy and Rhodey cast their friend knowing looks.

“He got one, too?”  
Stark nodded, ignoring the pity in their voices and eyes.  
“Course. My love knows no boundaries. Now, shoo shoo, guys - hurry up and get changed before he comes back!”

+

Once Bruce stepped downstairs, a tall boy stood in the foyer, bundled up in a thick coat and scarf, and stomped off the snow under his boots.

“Merry Christmas, Richard.”

The boy looked up. At the sight of his father standing by the massive banister. his mouth twitched. “Merry Christmas. Nice... sweater.” The billionaire glimpsed down at the knitted image of an elf and Rudolph the reindeer riding a red jeep with the American flag attached to the rearview mirror. The slogan on the front bumper read 'This Is How We Roll'. A brief, awkward look crossed the billionaire's countenance.

“A gift from Tony. He...- likes cars.”  
  
Richard nodded along at his bumbling explanation, never taking his eyes off the disturbing piece of fabric. “It makes for some great conversation.” Wayne cleared his throat. “Are you alone?” Richard nodded and unwrapped the scarf around his neck. “The Commissioner had to cover for a sick colleague, and since the Gordons are in the middle of divorcing-” Richard swallowed and stuffed his mittens into the coat pockets.

“Barbara felt it was better to stay with her mother. I tried to argue but it didn't go well, and everything-” He stopped. “She's mad at me and we're... we're not talking anymore.” Jaw tense, the 17-year-old went and put his coat upon the nearby rack. “I - am sorry.” Bruce's words were quiet as he took two steps into his son's direction. Richard nodded and averted his eyes. “I was right, though. I shouldn't have to apologize.”

He sniffed angrily at the slight quiver in his voice. It was then that a hand landed on his shoulder. “Put aside your pride and let her know about your feelings before it is too late.” Bruce swallowed and looked ahead. Richard followed his gaze over into the living room filled with laughter. “We're human, Richard, and we make mistakes. But that is okay as long as you learn from them and become a better person.”

They saw Tony standing amid his friends, all of them wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, holding up his too long sleeves. Joyous laughter wafted over to them, and the billionaire swallowed once more. “I know that now. Better than anyone.” In a move too sudden to foresee, even for Bruce Wayne, his son threw himself into his arms and started to cry. Soundless at first, his whole body soon shook with heart-wrenching sobs.

“What if I messed it up for good.”

His father said nothing and held him close instead. At some point, he was able to make out the words “I'm sorry” among the crying fit and tightened his grip on Richard's lanky shoulders. When Tony stepped out into the foyer, searching for his missing husband, he stopped in mid-motion, eyes wide upon the sight that greeted him. From where he was still locked in an embrace, Bruce's eyes found his.

He gave a small nod over his son's head; a silent command Tony understood. He nodded in return before he turned around and steered everybody's into the adjacent dining room. After several minutes, Richard had calmed down enough for Bruce to release him. He wordlessly held out a handkerchief and the boy blew his nose and wiped a sleeve over his red eyes before he crumpled the tissue in his fist.

“Go wash your face. I'll wait here.”  
Richard nodded and headed over to the nearest guest bathroom.  
“Dad?”  
  
He paused, doorknob in hand. Bruce looked at him.  
“Yes?”  
A timid smile flitted over Richard's face.

“That really is an ugly sweater.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's ugly Christmas sweater inspired by this:  
> https://i5.walmartimages.com/asr/11b53168-cc6f-426f-80aa-93ca52f30cb1_1.11552c30d2d38421e7b6c61c2ac4300b.jpeg?odnHeight=450&odnWidth=450&odnBg=FFFFFF


	75. Chapter 75

Bruce glanced along the row of people gathered around the traditional dining table. On his left sat Tony, followed by Tim, Stephanie, Richard, and Damian. On Bruce's right was Alfred, followed by James Rhodes and the Hogan family with their daughter in a high chair in the middle. Tony leaned in to speak into his ear before he clinked a bread knife against his flute with care. All eyes rested on them. Wayne cleared his throat.

“I was told I need to give a toast, even though my husband is the creative one of us.”

Tony grinned as chuckles erupted. Bruce then took his glass and stood up, giving the delicate flute filled with non-alcoholic wine a pensive look. After a brief moment, he spoke. “May you have the hindsight to know where you've been, the foresight to know where you are going, and the insight to know when you have gone too far.” He kept his gaze at his sons and husband as he spoke before Bruce Wayne raised his glass.

"To family and good health. Merry Christmas.”

A mutual “Merry Christmas” erupted, glasses clinked, and the sounds of cutlery on fine china took over. There was roast turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, steamed vegetables and some other vegetarian options for Damian, as well as several pies and pudding variations for dessert. The rest of the evening was spent harmonious. Tim and Stephanie played a few rounds of cards while Richard was engrossed in texting.

Tony slurped down his espresso as Pepper stepped out for a quick diaper change for Ava and overheard a benign discussion between Bruce and Happy. "No way. Why own over a dozen cars if you can only drive one at a time?" The Gothamite gave a polite tilt of the head. "Nostalgia. I have a thing for collectibles." At Happy's disbelieving frown, Tony leaned over the headrest of the couch in their midst.

"Hapster, you're fighting a losing battle. Bruce's latest possession has a total of 4400 horsepower and is about to be launched at the upcoming holiday vacation." Wayne shot his husband a pointed look and tried to look apologetic. Hogan gave a grumpy snort and reached for his glass of cider. "Rich people are crazy." Tony nodded along, delighted Bruce did not bother to correct him. Just then, their sons caught their attention.

"Dad? Tony? Can we?"

They pointed at the television and held up the Just Dance game. Tony and Bruce nodded and watched them trying to perform a flawless Uptown Funk without Tim and Damian at each other's throats for every mistake. At some point, the boys managed to lure everyone but Bruce, Alfred, and Stephanie in. The latter offered to watch over Ava as Tony and Rhodey challenged Pepper and Happy in an Elvis Presley dance-off.

As matters stood, Tony was forced to take on the female part, resulting in great overall laughter. In a final attempt to regain some of his dignity in front of his hooting sons and smirking husband, Tony sweet-talked Pepper into a duet. Their mambo earned rave applause and standing ovations before Stephanie was taken home by Alfred in the limousine, and everyone retreated to their rooms for the night.

+

Christmas morning started at 8:30 with the boys raiding the gifts under the tree before breakfast. While all adults had agreed on not getting presents for themselves, most of the boys' wishes got fulfilled, thanks to Alfred's meticulous listening and planning, and Tony's easy and frequent use of his credit card. Ava made curious eyes at all the shining and rustling wrappings and was handed a batch of paper to tear up.

Her actual present did not really pique her interest, seeing she had gotten a 529 savings plan, which had been Tony's idea, as well as a single share of stock, courtesy of Bruce. "It's far more important to help her learn to be an investor instead of just a saver." The newly-found parents nodded at the billionaire, grateful and a bit overwhelmed at such meticulous foresight.

Around 11:30 am, Alfred drove the Hogans and Rhodey to the nearest airfield where one of the Wayne Enterprises' executive jets would be waiting. Granted some time alone with their three sons, Tony and Bruce teamed up in the doorway of the dining room. “I think it's about time.” At Tony's cryptic tone, the boys shot a few curious glances their way and looked at each other over the late-breakfast table in confusion.

"Time?"  
Richard's question was met with a nod from Wayne Sr.  
“Follow me.”

+

When the elevator came to a standstill, all hushed conversation inside died down. Bruce was the first to exit, followed by Tony who made a wide come-hither gesture at their sons. With slow, careful steps, Richard, Tim, and Damian entered the cavernous structure filled with high-tech gear.

“This has been here the whole time?”

Tim's voice was hushed and awed at the same time. Richard glanced around, trying to take as much in at once as possible while Damian craned his neck and squinted up at the invisible but audible bats circling high above. Undeterred, Bruce Wayne took a seat at his chair in front of the supercomputer and pressed a few buttons.

“Long before the three of you came into my life, I made the decision to serve Gotham in a way Bruce Wayne never could. The Batman is a symbol of justice; a symbol which needs to remain faceless and untouchable.” He paused for effect and looked into the round of young, serious faces. His sons eventually gave slow nods. “Now that you know about the importance of secrecy, it also means-”

Here, Bruce looked at Tony, making the boys follow his gaze. Tony nodded along, grateful for the introduction. “There's something I've been wanting to show you for ages, but I had to spend so much time playing Where's Waldo that this one's on you, critters.” Indignant voices and faces followed, which Tony shushed with a finger to his lips. “Just when you thought having one weird dad with a costume fetish is enough...”

Bruce made a stern-sounding noise in the back of his throat. The three Wayne sons frowned at each other just as Tony slipped something small in his ear and pressed a button on his phone. “I'll go prove you wrong. Here's something for you to enjoy. A hint – it's not Santa!”

Electronic whirring erupted.

As soon as the armor began to move and pieces rose into the air, Richard took half a step back, instinctively reaching out to shield Tim and Damian. When it became clear there was no present danger, they witnessed the big show Tony made out of suiting up, allowing parts of the suit to fly his way via cognitive control. The faceplate came on last and he towered over all of his sons in gleaming red and gold.

“Well, whaddaya say?”

His voice was mechanically enhanced but still recognizable. The boys' eyes went wide as saucers.

“Tony, that's... that's the Iron Man. You're the Iron Man!”

“Oooh boy! I don't believe this!”

“Friggin kick-ass!”

They rounded him like a rare and exotic animal at the zoo. Tim was the first to initiate a round of questions.

“But what do you do when you have an itch?”

“Or when you have to sneeze? Don't you bump your forehead?”

“Or when you have to pee?”

Throwing Bruce and his mock-angelic concentration behind his supercomputer a rotten look, Tony cleared his throat. “Enough of these peasant questions! I take it no one wants an Iron Man exclusive aerial tour?” The boys overtook themselves with “Me! Me!” shouting. Tony raised and pointed a gauntleted finger into the round. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, who's the first to be allowed to go-...?”  
  
Eventually, he stopped ticking off at Tim in the middle.  
“Alright, step on up, Buddy Rich [famous drummer].”  
With an arm secured around the boy's waist, Tony was just about to ignite his jet-pack boots.

“Oh, but Tony?”

“Yeah, BB?”

“If you fart in it, does the smell travel up all the way to the helmet?”

Over the roaring laughter of their three sons, the corners of Bruce Wayne's mouth twitched with perfectly concealed glee.

The armor released Tim, who instantly bent over laughing, to give a few exaggerated staggering steps backward.

“Et tu, Brute?” [You, too, Brutus?]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Batboys' performance to Uptown Funk:  
> (would Damian be in the middle?)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yeGMgVkiS0o
> 
> Four-player-mode to Jailhouse Rock:  
> (Tony is the one on the far right ;))  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJm47uS6G8w
> 
> The Pepperony Mambo No. 5:  
> https://youtu.be/l8hBZPPjCMo?t=26


	76. Chapter 76

Somewhere south of the Bahamas, a sleek black and white yacht idled in deep waters, its gleaming hull graced by a powerful, bold metallic lettering that read 'Equilibrium'. Three boys stood high up at the railing, wearing swim shorts and thick patches of white sunscreen on their respective shoulders. The tallest of them was equipped with a professional pair of binoculars he kept pointed at the quiet ocean in front.

“T-minus 30 seconds.”

“He's gonna make it.”

“It's gonna be sooo awesome!”

“Put on your ear protection.”

“Daaaaaad.”

“Everyone. At once. Or we'll abort this right now.”

With a mutual grumble, Richard, Tim, and Damian reached for the earphones at their feet. Bruce threw his butler a quick glance and found him equally protected and nodding back. The billionaire then reclined in the sunroof area and pointed at the sky. “All eyes on three o'clock.” A glittering object on the horizon moved fast into their direction. Tim's eager finger hovered over the video function of his phone. “I can see him!”  
  
"You are such a fanboy."  
Damian's voice was meant to sound unexcited, but the way he bounced up and down on his toes told a different story.  
With their heads craned into the sky, all of the Wayne family members then watched the impending arrival of Iron Man.

Tony flew low enough to cause a ripple across the water surface. When he whooshed past the 'Equilibrium', surrounded by a vapor cone, an ear-deafening sonic boom followed his wake as he broke the sound barrier, audible despite ear protection. The boys were whooping and cheering out loud, arms raised in the air. Bruce Wayne shook his head and took off his headphones at the same time. “He really did it. Lunatic.”

Alfred who already had switched the headphones for a large-brimmed straw hat, handed him a glass of fresh citrus juice from a silver tray. “What were the stakes again of that bet you have just lost, Master Bruce?” His protege threw him a flat look. “Loser has to dress in whatever the winner wants at the office for one day.” Years of professionalism prevented Pennyworth from breaking into the gleeful smirk that tugged at his lips.

“Well, Sir, I am sure you will cut a splendid figure in whatever Master Anthony is going to bestow upon you.” At that, Bruce's mobile on the little side table came to life. “Yup, I agree with Al. You'll be a marvelous drag queen. Legs for miles!” The Gothamite picked it up and seethed into the receiver. “You wouldn't dare.” A deep baritone chuckle over the line. “Serves you right for bypassing me on how to name this beautiful motor yacht.”

Wayne turned off the speaker function and put the phone to his ear, making sure neither Alfred nor his boys were listening in on them. “I am not arguing with a man who seriously wanted to name this vessel 'Wasted Seamen'.” In between whooshing background noises, Tony snorted on the other end. “The bracketed A was optional! Also, I suggested 'Frozen Assets' but you were having none of it either.”

“And rightfully so.” Bruce's frown lines softened as he suckled on the straw of his juice before putting the glass aside. “Come out of the tin can now and eat with us.” Hesitation over the line. “Yeah, um, actually I... - just wanted to do a veeery short j-squared at the Gulf of Mexico and be back in half an hour or so if that's alright with you?” The Gothamite squinted at the horizon and the direction Tony had veered off into.

“I am going to regret asking what you are talking about, aren't I?”

A pair of sunglasses appeared in front of his nose and Bruce took them with a brief but nonetheless grateful little smirk and nod upward at his butler's usual circumspection. “Little geek lesson for you, BB: A U-turn is multiplying your vector by minus one. In engineering, the square root of minus one is called 'j', so 'minus one' can be called 'j squared'. Get it? You got that?” Bruce inhaled. And exhaled.

"I'm hanging up now, Tony. Somehow the connection is becoming really bad.” His husband's trademark chuckle came through the line. “Yeah, nonono, wait, I... okay, here's what: Jarvis just detected some shady stuff over at the Mexican border. Gun trafficking. Think it's cool if I go... check it out?” Bruce looked over to where Alfred was just trying to get Damian to wear a hat against the sun. He sighed.

“Knowing you won't rest anyhow until you did, I don't think I have much of a choice.” Tony's smile was almost audible through the line. “Ah, you just can't say no to me, BB, admit it.” That time, the sigh that came out of Bruce's mouth was laced with fondness. “Stay safe and don't be too long.”

“Wilco, Admiral Wayne. Later!”  
  
+

“Five petty gun runners, hiding in the dark...”

To the tune of the old children's song about monkeys, Iron Man waited until he was sure that what they were currently hauling out of one of the huge warehouses at the docks was definitely not a regular loading job. Then he came in flares and repulsors ablaze and sent the illegal group scattering in the wind.

He managed to catch three of them in one go, tying them up in a huge smelly trawl on the ceiling and rendered the fourth one immobile by surrounding his body with six old car tires he molded close to the body inside via heat seal.

The fifth one, however, was a challenge - far more quick and nimble than the rest of his gang. Tony and he went into a game of cat and mouse until the guy took a wrong turn that led him into a dead-end. Iron Man powered up his thrusters and cut off his path. “Gotcha.” The sound of an ejecting jackknife filled the air. “Freaking tuna can. Let's carve you up and look at the contents.” His voice had no accent. It was familiar.

Behind the faceplate, Tony frowned and blinked.

“... Jay?”

The masked man opposite of him froze for a split second before he made a move to dash away. Despite his stupor, Tony was quick to reach out and yank him close on one arm, iron gauntlets no match for the knife that began to stab and thrust into his armor. Inside the suit, several vital stats began to flash from green to red. “Sir, I am detecting a significant rise in your cortisol levels. Your pulse is also elevated.”

Tony ignored his AI and his ragged breathing and refastened his hold on the still struggling smuggler. “Retina scan.” As the stats popped up on his HUD, he started to shake his head. “No... that...” With a strong tug of his free gauntlet, Iron Man reached out and pulled off the balaclava. “... can't be true.” A darkly tanned face framed by a buzzcut and a new scar running along the left side of his face stared back.

Gray eyes darted all over the armor and its helmet until the faceplate came up with a whoosh. Mutual stupefaction ensued.

“... the FUCK!?”

Tony stared back at him. “Same.” He blew out his cheeks. “God, I... do you KNOW what... - God!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vessel that inspired the Wayne yacht is an Azimut Grande:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5usLo86mzQU  
> http://www.azimutyachts.com/azimutgrande27metri.html
> 
> Tony breaking the sound barrier and creating that unique sonic boom happened in IM1, but the quality of the YouTube clip is not too good and it's too short, so here's an F-18 doing the same thing in high-res: https://youtu.be/PQydRIxoAU0?t=45
> 
> The lost bet kind of stems from discovering the beauty that is this picture of an 'empowered Bruce Wayne':  
> https://i.imgur.com/AKYsuMH.jpg


	77. Chapter 77

They stood and gaped at each other for the longest time. Eventually, Tony flung the knitted mask back at the young man and released him. “We buried your dead body at the Manor for fuck's sake!” Jason crossed his arms. “Clearly not.” A manic grin appeared on his face in the dim light of the warehouse. “But whom did you bury?” Tony gulped for air and stared at the person he thought he would never see again.

“I have no idea, Bruce said your...- the body was burnt beyond recognition, with no more teeth inside the mouth to make identifying possible.” Tony heaved a deep breath at the horrifying memories that bubbled close to the surface. “Holy shitfuck, he is going to blow a fuse when I tell him.” Jason shrugged. “Then don't.” A pair of dark, disbelieving eyes stared back at him. “What?!” Todd pointed a thumb at the exit in the back.

“Turn around, count to three, I'll be gone, and...”

An iron-vise grip was back around his arm. “You little piece of shit! Do you know your death,” Tony all but spat out the word. “Tore us apart? All of us?! Your father almost drank himself into oblivion! We nearly split! Richard and Damian are not living with us anymore, and you have the guts to tell me to let you go?” For a few heartbeats, Jason looked almost shaken. Tony forced himself to breathe out and released him.

“I wanna know why. What happened. The whole story.”

Jason brought some space in between them and started playing with the knife's mechanism. “I escaped by a fucking hairsbreadth, leaving Cairo for Europe. When I heard about someone clearing up the ranks of the League, I figured it was safe enough to come back here.” He eyed the armored suit from head to toe. “Never thought you'd had it in you. Saw it on some news how you finished the job. Well done, Daddy Stark.”

At his shrewd grin, Tony's scowl deepened and he thrust a gauntleted finger in his face. “No. You don't get to fucking congratulate me. Not for something that almost cost me my marriage and my family.” As usual, Todd remained unfazed and unflappable. “Yeah, Bruce probably didn't approve of what you did.” Jason cracked his neck and slipped the knife back into one of his many pockets.

“He never approved of my methods either, even if it meant people would continue to go fuck him over, just like that bitch.”

Tony crossed his arms, which led to the armor giving a few very audible whirrs. “Are you really trying to tell me you went on a chivalrous whim just to avenge me? C'mon Jaybird, gimme a break. Your noble vigilante bullshit doesn't do it for me.” Tony spoke in such a disparaging manner that Todd pointed a finger at him. “Hey now, no one messes with my family, okay? Especially not that fucking crazy woman.”

When Tony arched an eyebrow, Jason threw his arms up with a rather indignant look on his face. “I wanted to get a head-start on them, screw Bruce and his fuckin intel shit. And yeah, okay, so what if I was in the mood for a little more action? You've seen her. I don't mind leftovers, but man, that hag is truly fuckered in the head.” All Tony did was blink at him at first, stupefaction written on his face. “You--... didn't.”

A youthful smirk. “Did, too. But in the end, things went FUBAR real quick, and before I knew it, I was sentenced to death and escaped by putting someone else in the flamethrower shower or whatever that whacked thing was. And after that, well,... technically I was a free man, with no obligations to anything or anybody. Sweet nirvana.” Tony blew out his cheeks. “You wouldn't have sought us out.” It was not a question.

Jason chewed on his bottom lip and ran a palm over his buzzcut. From up close, Tony could see how the skin on the back of his hand was covered in burn marks. “Who knows. Honestly though, maybe it's better to leave things the way they are. The old man would've chewed my ass out for eternity any which scenario.” They lapsed into silence. Outside, the deep sounds of a ship's horn could be heard. Tony then exhaled.

“Here's what. New York, building One57, apartment 36 D. Keycode 2905. I'll meet you there in a week. Alone.”

With that, Iron Man engaged his thrusters to hover in the air. Jason frowned. “What's this gonna be?” Tony's dissecting stare never wavered. “Your safehouse till I figure out how we go from here. I won't tell anybody, provided you'll show up. Oh, and you bet you're gonna grant Bruce the opportunity to chew you out for as long as he fucking likes, buster.” With a peeved expression, Jason raised his chin and folded his arms.

“Yeah? What if I don't?”  
It sounded downright insolent. The suit's faceplate came down with a clang and left him to face its eye slits.  
“Swear to God, Jay, you better show up. Otherwise, there is no hole on this planet where I don't find you.”

+

When Tony returned to the 'Equilibrium', he tried hard to not let his turmoil of emotions show. It lasted until the second Bruce laid eyes on him once he had disassembled. “What happened?” Tony put up a deflecting smile and ducked to head down the few stairs into their master bedroom at the helm. “Nothing, it was...” He numbly stared at the comforter of the bed until warm palms cupped his shoulders.

“You are distressed. Tell me. Are you injured anywhere?” Worry crept into Bruce's voice, so Tony was quick to shake his head. “Nono, I... it's--” He swallowed and cast his gaze over to where the sea glittered outside the windows. “These men – boys, rather – they... I had to leave them bound and tied up and had Jarvis contact the harbor police. Guess I'm not used to... dealing with those kinds of situations. Yet.”

His bumbled answer and forced smirk seemed to satisfy his husband enough to stop staring him down and take him into his arms instead. Tony lowered his head. “Don't, I'm smelly.” Bruce kissed his forehead. “Why don't you go take a shower. The boys have already eaten but I'll have Alfred bring us some leftover salad and sandwiches.” With a weak smile, Tony reached for the zipper of his undersuit. “Thanks, I'd like that.”

Much to his surprise, Bruce stepped into the shower cabin with him, smelling of wind, sunscreen and saltwater. It was a compulsive action driven by a need to make sure he was really unharmed, but Tony actually enjoyed the company and allowed Bruce to wash his hair; not in a libido-craze but with tender love and care. Once they were toweled dry and dressed in shirts and boxers, a tray with food awaited them on the bed.

Despite his rumbling stomach, Tony only managed a few mouthfuls of tuna salad and cucumber sandwich before putting his plate aside. Bruce eyed him but refrained from making a comment. When they both had brushed their teeth and slid under the covers, Bruce stayed on his side of the queen-sized mattress. Tony reached out until he brushed against the soft hairs of his bare forearm. “Can you just hold me?”  
  
Warm lips found his temple before two arms tightened around his frame.  
“Of course.”  
Tony laid awake most of the night, listening to Bruce's soft breathing and the waves lapping against the hull.

 


	78. Chapter 78

“You good, boss?”  
  
Tony glimpsed up at the curious face of one of his trusted engineers. Fred was a lanky guy in his late twenties who wore geek shirts to work and his hair in a ponytail. His eyes had two different colors, and he was one of the best scientists Tony had the pleasure of hiring. Their mutual love for Led Zeppelin had sealed the deal faster than Lucius Fox was comfortable with at first, but soon realized Tony's gut feeling had been right.  
  
“Yeah, sure. A bit antsy now that we're finally getting this thing on the road.”

Fred nodded and walked over to find a place further down the meeting table. Tony blew out his cheeks and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the third day after returning to Gotham from their vacation, and the launch of the Wayne Enterprises' Levitator for Premises project was in the last stages. R&D wanted to give its presentation a final rehearsal before going public the upcoming week via their charismatic chief scientist.

Tony swallowed down the sudden feeling of suffocation and put up a brave face as he got up and strolled past his team members to the head of the conference table. Upon the wall, the first slide of the presentation showcasing the Wayne Enterprises logo was already flickering on the big screen. His fingers ran over the smooth surface of the little remote control in his hands as he cleared his throat and looked into the round.

"What makes Gotham different from other cities? A lot I'd say. We've got the most mediocre coffee shops, the world's shittiest ratio of rainy days vs. sunny days, and our hurricane season is getting out of hands with each new year. And with it comes the sad realization that earthquakes don't kill people; buildings do. But here's the good news - we're on it. Screw tectonic activity, we're here to take base isolation to a new level!"

Knowing grins all around the table. Tony smirked back and narrowed his eyes against the brightness of the screen as he switched slides. "So far, all of Wayne Enterprises' properties are able to withstand an earthquake of at least 8.5 on the Richter scale. The Wayne Enterprises' Levitator for Premises - in short: WELP, and yeah, pun intended - offers a network of sensors which communicates with a repulsor compressor..."

A bout of vertigo made him sway against the table, only to drop into the chair closest to him.

“Tony?”

He held up a hand and gave a lopsided grin. “Just a sec. All this excitement made me dizzy, even without a temblor.” Faint chuckles were heard, and Tony managed to give a strained smile. “So, as I was saying - at the first signs of seismic activity, the repulsors get the whole structure a good 1.2 inches off the ground until things are back in the green zone. The prototype has already been successfully tested in various-"

Again, Tony stopped, this time taking off his tinted glasses to rub his eyes. “Sorry, fellas, I dunno, I... don't feel so good.” Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he reached for the first buttons of his shirt. His colleagues hovered close by, Fred fetching a glass of water while someone else went to open a nearby window for fresh air. “Maybe we should call an ambulance?” They were speaking in hushed tones, sounding concerned.

Spots began to dance in front of Tony's eyes as his breathing accelerated, and he had to put the glass down to avoid dropping it. Everything seemed to reel around him, and he grabbed the edge of the table tight. A hand was on his arm and he realized he was shaking. “... Tony? We're going to call an ambulance now.” He frowned at the feeling of his ribcage being too tight and swallowed; tongue heavy inside his mouth.  
  
“That... might be a good thing.”

+

Three sharp knocks on his door yanked Bruce out of deep concentration.

“Yes?”

A sliver of annoyance at being disturbed swung in his voice as he looked up from the reports in his hands. The door opened just enough for his secretary to poke her head in. “What is it, Fiona?” She wore a contrite expression. “I am sorry Mister Wayne, I know you said not to disturb you, but we have a 911 emergency situation a few floors below.” Bruce pushed his glasses higher up his nose with one finger.

“That is unfortunate, but what does that have to do with me?”  
Her troubled countenance made him put the documents aside, a sinking feeling in his gut.  
"Fiona?"

“It's... Mister Stark-Wayne, Sir.”

In less than five minutes, Bruce strode into the respective conference room, only to find two emergency medical technicians looming over his husband. Tony sat slumped in a chair, without his jacket and with a blood pressure cuff around his exposed left arm. He looked ashen and remorseful as their eyes met. Bruce made a move towards him, but one of the paramedics stepped into his way and made him frown.

“What happened?”

“Mister Stark-Wayne has a very elevated pulse and heartbeat. We need to take him to the hospital for further examination.” Bruce's eyes stayed glued to Tony's miserable form as he was asked to lie down on a foldable gurney supplied by the other EMT. “I am coming along.” The young medic regarded him. “Are you related?” Wayne nodded. “I am his husband.”

After a 20-minute drive in the ambulance with its flashing lights all the way down Gotham's biggest avenues, they arrived at the Gotham Grand emergency room. By now, Tony seemed a bit less frantic than before, and Bruce stayed with him until he was wheeled into a room to undergo blood tests and an electrocardiogram. While Tony was away, Bruce called Alfred. The butler sounded worried but nevertheless professional.

“I am packing a bag for Master Anthony and you, Sir, just in case. Do you need me to bring anything else along?”  
Bruce paced along the squeaking linoleum of the aisle, eyes scanning every nurse and movement around him.  
“No, but stay put for now until we know what is up. I will call you again once the examination is done.”

“Of course, Master Wayne. I am awaiting your call.”

After Bruce had pocketed his phone and turned around to walk back into the ER corridor, he almost ran into a wispy man with see-through skin who shuffled past him on a walking frame. He was half the billionaire's height and size, wore thick horn-rimmed glasses and a thin bathrobe and worn-out slippers. Tubes ran from his wrist to a mobile IV attached to his walker. “Hold your horses there, young man.”

His voice sounded distorted like he was suffering from some sort of laryngitis. “Excuse me.” Bruce then was quick to step aside and went to hold the swinging door open for him. The elderly shuffled onward, muttering to himself. “Always rushing ahead those young 'uns.” One of Wayne's eyebrows arched on its own accord before he resumed his spot in front of the examination room Tony was currently in.

After another ten more minutes, the door opened and two physicians walked out. They told him he was allowed to wait by his husband's side for the results. Tony was still lying on the gurney and still dressed in his earlier attire, but with both of his sleeves rolled up. A thick patch of cotton fixated by white band-aid strips was sitting in the crook of his left elbow. He wore a frown even as Bruce stepped in close for a kiss.

“Did they say something?” Tony negated and pulled a grimace. “Not yet. Blood work might take another half an hour.” Wayne looked around the small room and pulled a chair closer to the bedside. “How do you feel?” Tony shrugged. “Normal. No more like my heart's bursting out of my chest or like I'm about to suffocate.” Bruce leaned forward and reached out to take the fingers of his right hand into his. “Good.”

He began to massage the cold digits to get the circulation going and found Tony squeezing back. “This is super awkward. I'm sorry.” Not stopping his caressing movements, Bruce shook his head. “It is not awkward. If something is wrong, we need to know as soon as possible.” They kept on sitting in a companionable silence for a while, holding hands until a sharp knock on the door made them look up.

A male doctor in his late fifties strode in, wearing a white coat and carrying a medical chart in his hand. “Good afternoon, Mister Stark-Wayne. My name is Doctor Miller. I got the results from the laboratory.” Bruce released his husband's fingers and sat up straighter, as did Tony. “So what's the verdict?” He looked as if he was mentally bracing himself for the worst. Doctor Miller flipped through the two papers on his clipboard.

“All of your vitals are perfectly normal. Which is good, because this rules out any serious medical condition.”

“So I just imagined suffocating and having to die on the spot?” Tony's voice was shriller than usual. The doctor shook his head. “No, Mister Stark-Wayne, what you experienced is commonly known as a severe panic attack.” Silence. Bruce glimpsed at him, but Tony kept on frowning at the blanket in his lap and curled his fists into it. When neither man spoke, the doctor cleared his throat and lowered the clipboard.

“Attacks like that are precipitated by anxiety, depression, or another psychiatric difficulty. You might have been under a lot of stress for an undefined period of time, so I suggest getting some rest and taking it easy. Feel free to look into the idea of prescribed medication together with a therapist to get to the root of the problem.” When they were alone again, Tony looked over at Bruce with an almost timid expression.

Wayne still sat in the nearby chair, not meeting his gaze, and scowled at something underneath the hospital bed. “The suit. It must have something to do with the strain you are under when you are flying in that suit.” Tony swallowed. “I... dunno.” He glanced down at the white bandaids atop his veins. “Can we go home now? I'm tired.” A nod, then Bruce reached for something in his jacket and stood up.  
  
“I'll speak to Alfred. Relax for now, he might need a while to get here. Rush hour.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info on WE's earthquake-resistant properties found here:  
> http://dc.wikia.com/wiki/Batman_Vol_1_553


	79. Chapter 79

The limousine arrived at the curb half an hour later. With one hand staying at the small of Tony's back, Bruce steered him into the backseat, throwing their trusted butler a thankful glance when he turned around. “Master Anthony, I am relieved to hear it is nothing serious.” Tony nodded along, even though it was halfhearted. “It's just been the most embarrassing days of my life and I gotta find a way to save face at work.”

Next to him, Bruce fastened his seat belt with a disparaging curl of his mouth. “Nonsense. Everyone will be glad you are okay. But you are going to stay at home for the upcoming two weeks to fully recover. It's for the best.” He threw him a glance but Tony had already turned his head the other way, towards the window. “Maybe, yeah.” For the rest of the drive to the Palisades, he kept his gaze out of the passenger side.

At home, Tony was quick to let his team know via mail he was still going to hold the presentation, just two weeks later than originally planned. However, Bruce had no time to stay by his side with an upcoming series of quarterly meetings requiring the CEO's attendance at subsidiaries of Wayne Enterprises all across the country. While Bruce was insistent about the Iron Man suit being the source of the problem, Tony knew better.

He, therefore, decided to tackle the problem firsthand as soon as his husband was away for business.

+

The first thing that greeted him at his New York apartment was a pair of white tennis socks thrown over one of the designer lamps in the living room. His eyes narrowed at the half-eaten takeaway boxes of Chinese food on the coffee table and the smell of energy drinks from leftover, open cans. Grumbling along, Tony snatched a stray shirt from the back of the couch and walked further into his condo.

“Jay?”

His eldest son strutted out of the bathroom, engulfed in a cloud of steam. He was dressed in nothing but long gray sweatpants, and Tony saw the multitude of burn marks covering the area from his clavicle to his left wrist. “I don't have a maid or a butler, so make sure you clean up this mess.” Jason's grin turned downright boorish. “Yes, mom.” The balled shirt hit him square in the chest and Jason caught it with ease.

He proceeded to sniff it, only to pull a face and drop it to the floor. “Ah, ah, ah.” With a roll of his eyes, the boy followed Tony's outstretched finger and picked the dirty shirt up again to dunk into one of the two laundry bags inside the bathroom. Jason then walked over to where a very old and very worn duffel bag sat next to the unmade bed and dug in until he produced a fist of what looked to be halfway clean clothes.

“So, figured out what the plan's gonna be, Daddy Stark?”  
Tony watched him slip into a black shirt that read 'Try Not To Suck' in big blue letters.  
“A simple one. I'll lure him here on his birthday under false pretenses, and we both get ready for his wrath.”

“Really now?”

“Oh, yeah. Believe me, sonny, I've got my neck stuck in the noose just like you do.”

“In for a penny,...”

Jason's sing-song voice made Tony shush him with a finger in his face. “The things I do for you, Jay. Be glad I ended up liking you a lot more than I originally planned. Better try and keep your earned brownie points.” Done putting on socks and a pair of worn-out sneakers, Jason got to his feet again, smug grin back in place. “By the way, Daddy-S, liking me sure comes with a bit of spare change to feed a hungry mouth, no?”  
  
+

Once Tony sat in his trusted R8, buckled up and letting the navigation system figure out the fastest way back to the Palisades, a tingling feeling crept up all the way from the back of his head. Mumbling curses under his breath, he put the car into traffic and focused on driving instead of his increasing heartbeat. Downtown Manhattan was a nightmare at rush hour, and the steering wheel soon damp from his sweated palms.

Tony gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the crescendo of honking cabs and flickering traffic lights. He managed to make it through the worst parts of the city and all but floored it once the streets started to clear up. The Audi roared out loud as Tony gained velocity, zipping past vans and sedans to get into the fast lane.

At first, it eased his trapped feeling to see the wide roads over water opening up to him, but after a little while, just halfway across George Washington Bridge, the same, liberating notion turned frightening. Forcing himself to keep the sports car in line despite his growing tunnel-vision, Tony ignored the rivulets of sweat running down his back and steered the Audi onto the interstate.

Part of him wanted to stop the car and get out, but he dreaded to postpone getting back home since it was cold and already getting dark outside. His in-car phone system cut into the engine-laden silence and Tony stared at the multimedia interface screen where 'Bruce' flashed up under the faceless silhouette of the caller ID. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Tony pressed a button on the steering wheel.

“Hi, BB.”  
  
He tried to sound as jovial and cheerful as always. “Alfred told me you've gone out.” Bruce's voice sounded tinny and far away, but nonetheless unamused. “Where are you?” Tony took his foot slightly off the accelerator but the downshifts were still unmistakable. “Took the R8 for a spin to clear my head – sorta.” Before Bruce could investigate further, Tony tried to deflect. “Where are you though? The connection's quite bad.”

There was a bit of a static rustle, then Bruce's voice came through a lot clearer. “Shangri-La Hotel, Tokyo.” Tony glimpsed at the digits on the dashboard. 4:48 pm. “W-what time is it at your place?” Soft rustling of sheets could be heard. “Close to six in the morning.”

“Jetlag?”

“I'm fine.” Bruce cleared his throat. “It's you I'm concerned about.”

“Why no, I'm fine, too.”

“You're out there getting speeding tickets and not sleeping or eating enough.”

“What - you my nanny as of late?”

It came out snippy and resulted in a palpably irritated bout of silence. Tony felt his heart rate speeding up once more. “Sorry. Sorry, BB, that's not – I... miss you, kay? And I'm eating lots, just ask Alfred.” On the other end, Wayne could be heard moving around, then there was the sound of a glass being filled. “I'll be back in-country in three days.” Tony tried to take an inconspicuous deep breath. “But not at home.”

“There's Orlando, Chicago, and Metropolis on the list this month.”

“I could fly over there, y'know? A quick tête-à-tête in Florida for old time's sake?”

“I'd rather not have you flying anywhere at the moment.”

Unbeknownst to Bruce, his husband pulled a face.

“Better make sure you're back before the 19th then.”

“I will.”

As soon as the call had ended, Tony was glad to see the familiar road signs of Gotham City.

+

Bruce's birthday fell on a Sunday.

Tony downplayed his nervousness by waking him with an impromptu hand job that mellowed Bruce out long enough for Tony to disappear in the shower and get dressed. After a sumptuous breakfast, they then took a helicopter from Gotham to New York for a quick, cost-effective choice. As they stood in the elevator, headed for floor 36, Tony fought not to rock on his heels and kept his eyes locked on the digital digits.

He all but startled when a set of warm lips suddenly nibbled at the area below his ear. “I guess the reason why we didn't need to bring luggage along has something to do with us not needing any.” A shudder ran through Tony's body, even if for a different reason. Wayne, however, took it as a sign to let one of his hands wander. When it reached the front of Tony's crotch, the latter's smile wavered and became diffuse. “We'll see.”

He all but fled from the elevator and the enticing advances of his husband once the door opened. The billionaire sauntered after him, hands in the pockets of his coat and a sharp, predatory expression on his face. Bruce seemed not the slightest bit worried about the evasive behavior, and rather intrigued as Tony cursed up a streak when he slipped and typed the key code in wrong. Bruce then caught up with him, leaning in close.

“No need to be nervous.” His breath was warm against the shell of Tony's ear, as was the weight of his body and its growing, unmistakable arousal against his backside. “Do you want me to... put it in for you? The … code?” His voice held an ambiguous timbre. Tony squirmed as the door unlocked with a soft electric hiss. He swung around and forced himself to meet the gorgeously chiseled features of his husband.

“BB, I need to tell you something before we go in. We... are going to have company.”

That got the Gothamite to perk up. “I never knew that was part of your... fantasies.” He kept his face even, but a flash of insecurity lurked in his eyes. A stricken look of panic crossed Tony's face. “Look, don't jump to... egads... I don't know how to say... Listen, I don't want to force anything upon you. Get that? Please just come in and have a look. Okay? For me? You do l-love me, right?” His eyes darted all over Bruce's face.

“Of course.”

It came out like a shot; definite and firm. Tony closed his eyes for a brief moment, opened them again and leaned in to press a firm kiss against Bruce's surprised lips, trying to make up for the shift from downright seductive to underlying alarmed and suspicious. “Okay, let's do this.” From where he had kept the doorknob in his hand, Tony went in first, glimpsing from the entrance area to the open living room.

Behind him, Bruce stopped, eyes narrowing at the back of a person standing at the windows.  
  
“Bat-Daddy, been a while. Many happy returns - though I think that fits me better in this context, doesn't it?”  
Jason turned around just in time to see his father's facial features derail and spread his arms with a shit-eating grin.  
“I kinda hoped you'd at least sputter out something like 'I see dead people' or something. Bummer.”

Seconds ticked away before Bruce turned around and left the apartment in long strides, not once looking back.

 


	80. Chapter 80

“Fuck it, Jay, that could've gone better.”

Tony left him behind to race after his husband, but when he reached the corridor, there was no sight or trace of Wayne. A glimpse at the elevators showed they were too far away and so Tony pulled out his phone. “Jarvis, locate Bruce's phone. Hurry.” A dot appeared on a virtual small map, indicating motion several stories above. “Shit, and I didn't even bring my suit.”

When Tony did reach the rooftop, breathless after taking the final three flights of stairs in a sprint, he found his husband at the edge of the roof. Bruce was bracing himself against the railing of the building, head hung low. Up there, on the 75th  floor, the wind was icy and strong and whipped at their hair and unbuttoned overcoats.

“BB, I...”

“Since when?”

Bruce's voice was dangerous and low, but strong enough to carry over to where Tony stood.

“Listen, it was just as much of a shock to me as it was to you, and we've...”

“Since WHEN!?”

With a shuddering exhale, Tony lowered his head and stared at the ground.

“... the yachting vacation after Christmas.”

Bruce slammed his palms down onto the railing with a very explicit curse and turned his back on his husband. The vocal outburst stunned Tony enough to not attempt a conversation again. Eventually, Wayne spoke. “Why didn't you tell me?” His voice was back in check, factual and detached as usual. “Because I agreed to do this on his terms, and... he would've balked if I hadn't, okay?!” Tony exhaled.

“He still is prone to, in a way, which is why we have to tread with caution from now on.”

He closed the distance over to where Bruce stood, jaw clenched tight and stared down at the far-away hustle and bustle of New York's streets. “You need to talk to him, BB.” When their eyes met, there was simmering resentment swirling in Bruce's cold, steely gaze. “I brought a body home that bore no recognition to my son, and I buried him next to my parents' graves to mourn it.”

His voice was filled with so much disgust that Stark had to gulp.

“We can take care of that... relocate the grave site to-”

“YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!”

Tony stepped back at the once more, unforeseen outburst. Bruce's hands were back to gripping the banister so tight that his knuckles lost all of their color. “My son is dead to me. He _chose_ to be dead to me.” Tony watched him hang his head low and heave a couple of deep breaths. Concerned, he reached out to touch his upper back. “Bruce, please...” With a finalizing shake of the head, the Gothamite straightened up.

“No.”

Tony withdrew his hand when Bruce headed for the rooftop maintenance door and left. When he returned to his apartment, Bruce was gone but Jason was still there, much to Tony's surprise. He lounged on the designer couch, grinning. “Guess that wasn't such a stellar idea after all, huh?” Todd did not anticipate the fist that curled into the front of his shirt and hauled him up. Blazing eyes drilled into his skull.

“Listen up real good, Jay. I love this man more than my own life, and he's been through so much shit that having you add to that list makes me really want to rearrange your organs.” A supercilious smirk appeared on Jason's face. “Careful, Daddy Stark. I could fuck you over big time, especially without your metal onesie.” Tony released him with a huff, a grim smirk, and a light push to his chest.

“And yet we both know you won't. What you will do, however, is get your fucking head back on straight and show up at the Manor to make this right.” With that, Tony stormed past him, glimpsing at his phone only to shove it back into his pocket. “What makes you so sure I'd be interested in that?” A certain wariness crept into Jason's stance as he watched Tony stop and turn around in the doorway, hand on the doorknob.

“Bruce told me family is not always blood. And you, fella, are part of this dysfunctional but amazing mess of a family whether your dickhead Dirty Harry mentality likes it or not.”

+

Out in the streets, the typical flow of tourists crowded the sidewalks. Again, Tony looked at his phone which did not display any messages or missed calls, and decided to give it a try. Pressing the speed dial, he put the device to his ear and stepped back into a nook of a nearby Starbucks to avoid being run over by pedestrians. _'The number_ _you_ _are trying to reach is currently_ _unavailable_ _._ _Please try again later_ _.'_

“Fuck, BB, don't do this.”

A quick status check on his emails then confirmed his suspicions. Bruce had already contacted their pilot. Because of the spontaneous request for transportation, the chartered helicopter would be arriving in an hour. Tony checked his watch. The cab-drive over to West 30th St Heliport would take twenty minutes maximum and he would be left freezing for the remaining time. Sighing in discontent, Tony looked around.

He decided to go for a stroll through Central Park West, taking a shortcut and a cab from 66th Lincoln Center, thus hopefully catching Bruce at the helipad right in time before his husband decided to take off without him. Flipping up the collar of his insulated coat, Tony set out for the park. Close to 3 pm, it was crowded with the usual tourists, parents and their children, and the obligatory dog walkers, runners, and bicyclists.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat against the sharp wind, Tony kept his head down and cursed himself for not bringing a woolen hat along. Halfway through the park, on West Drive, several bikes sped past him, followed by a few runners, and he unconsciously inched closer to the outside of the gravel path. Lost in thought and still trying to call Bruce on his mobile, he did not see one of the runners turn around.

“Tony?”  
Said man raised his head, only to stop walking and frown at the sight behind him.  
“... Steve...”

Rogers stopped his fast pace and came back to where Tony stood with an overwhelmed, puzzled expression. “What are you doing here?” Their mutual question came out at once, causing them to break in an insecure little laugh and snort moment. Tony pointed at Steve's insulated workout clothes. “I mean, I can see what you're doing, obviously, despite the shitty weather, but the question remains - why are you doing it here?”

Steve exhaled, the puff visible in the air. “Sam's been wanting to run in Central Park today, so I humored him and came along.” Tony's left eyebrow twitched. “Sam, huh?” Steve's rosy cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Yeah, we... met in DC last year, running in a park. It became a ritual for me to outrun him, so here I am.” He glimpsed ahead. “He's gonna wonder where I am.” Tony nodded along and squared his shoulders.

“Yup, don't wanna keep ya, seeing I gotta be going myself, so...” He was surprised to find Steve's hand on his arm. “Wait – Tony. We haven't been able to talk since Pepper's engagement party.” Thoughts of the incident at Fort Tryon Park crossed Tony's mind, and he had to smirk. “Yeah, I remember you sending me a letter that year. Which was the reason for you to start an alpha-male pissing contest with Bruce out in the fields.”

Steve's blue eyes narrowed with undiluted hatred. “That guy's a raging lunatic. I had to get stitches at the hospital.” Tony tilted his head with a hum and a click of his tongue. “Guess that makes me Mister Raging Lunatic now.” He held up and wiggled his left hand for emphasis before hiding it in his pocket again. “Anyhow, Steve, good luck with... Sam, and whatever you're planning to do.”

Before Tony was able to walk on, Steve's grip on his arm tightened. “That's all you have to say?” Tony's eyes narrowed. “Well, what do you want me to say? Listen, I have no idea about what went on at the wedding between you two, but I know it takes a lot to push Bruce's buttons, so, yeah. I'm sorry for what happened, but you gotta excuse me now, I've got a chopper to catch in less than... less than twenty.”

At that, Rogers' blue eyes turned into slits. “Listen to you, Tony. Talking like a snob even though you grew up just like the rest of us blue collar guys.” Among his growing anxiety, Tony did not feel him loosening his grip. “Let go, Steve. You're hurting me.” His ex-fiancé did not and pulled him a little closer instead. Tony frowned at the strength of his grip, then back up at the anger that shone right back at him.

“Nothing compared to the hurt of losing your company, your home, and most of what's valuable in your life.” Tony's eyes darted in between Steve's for several heartbeats. “I don't know what you're talking about.” Rogers pushed out his jaw. “Ask your precious sugar daddy husband. He'll be able to tell you.” From down the walkway, a dark-clad figure strode into their direction. Tony's mouth unwillingly twitched.

“I just might go and do that.”

 


	81. Chapter 81

Steve followed his line of vision.

At the sight of Bruce Wayne coming their way; tall, dark, and menacing with his long woolen coat wafting around him, Rogers released his hold on Tony's arm. He adopted a confident stance even as the Gothamite ignored him and stared at his husband instead. “What are you doing here?” Tony rubbed his wrist. “I ran into Steve. Or vice versa rather. Just what you'd expect from a megacity like NY. A true random meeting.”

Bruce' sinister aura never wavered, even as his eyes found Steve's. “You keep your hands off him, Rogers.” The blonde jotted his chin at him in a bellicose manner. “Or what?” Wayne's chest heaved with a deep breath. “You'll regret this. Deeply. Again.” Steve sidestepped Tony to close up to the Gothamite. “Somehow I don't think so.” The first push to Bruce's chest brought no satisfying result other than Wayne to narrow his eyes.

“I'm warning you.”

Steve ignored the low snarl and pushed him again, this time with more force against his shoulder. “Go ahead. I've been waiting too long for this chance, actually.” Bruce's jaw was set tight as he balled a gloved fist. Tony raised his hands and stepped in close between them, trying to diffuse the rapidly escalating situation.

“Now, everyone, wait up here, I don't--”

The blow meant for Steve caught Tony right above his cheekbone, sending him down to the ground with a small “Oomph”. In an instant, Bruce and Steve's attention was on him. “Tony!” They both bent down where he made clumsy attempts to get back to his feet. Wayne seethed at the blonde. “Back the fuck off, Rogers.” Tony's groaning demanded his attention as he reached for him to help him up.

Bruce's eyes roamed all over his husband's face, trying to assess the damage done. “God, Tony, that wasn't...” Waving him off with a reassuring hand, Tony probed the area around his eye and thankfully found it not bleeding but throbbing painfully. “Geez, what is it with you two and physical violence in public recreational parks for fuck's sake?” He blinked a few times and caught his breath. “Our ride. We're gonna be late.”

Wayne shook his head, mouth a thin line. “The pilot will wait.” His gaze turned straight up vitriolic. “Seeing there is unfinished business left.” Just as Steve raised his fists with a challenging sneer, an Afro-American male caught their attention, coming to a stop from his current running lap a few feet away. “Yo, Steve, everything okay here?” He took in the peculiar scenery until Steve lowered his arms and motioned for him to wait.

His eyes traveled over to his ex-lover.  
“Maybe next time, Tony. Take care.”  
One final, nasty glare at the man by his side, then Steve broke into a jog together with Sam.

+

Out on the helipad, their rented black AW109 chopper stood idling in the cold winter air. Keeping Tony's body close to his, shielded from the wind, Bruce crossed the distance in long strides, helping his husband up the skid before getting in himself. Both buckled up and their pilot went through the motions of liftoff without preamble. Tony fingered his cheekbone again, prompting his husband to lean in, eyes full of concern.

“Do we need to go to a hospital?”

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Tony gave a slow and careful shake of his head. “Nah, even though you pack a mean punch. I can be lucky you're wearing thick gloves, but still - ouch, remind me to stay in your good graces.” Bruce's gloved hands curled into fists on his thighs. “I'd never want to hurt you.” His voice was remorseful and full of self-loathing. Tony sniffled against a runny nose from the cold.

“Nah, maybe I deserved it. For not telling you about Jason earlier.”

At the name, Wayne's face shut down. Instead of an answer, he passed his husband a handkerchief and remained sitting at a reasonable distance for the rest of the flight, looking deep in thought. Back at the Manor, Bruce ordered his husband to get into bed and went to get an ice pack for Tony's growing black eye. In the kitchen, Alfred watched him dissolve two Alka Seltzer in a glass of water.

“I reckon your trip was not as pleasant as expected, Sir?”  
Putting the silver spoon aside, Bruce took the tall glass along.  
“No, Alfred. It wasn't.”

Once he returned to their bedroom, Tony was lying flat on his back on the mattress, dressed in sleeping attire.

“Here.”

Bruce handed him the ice pack and waited until he had scooted into a propped-up position against the headboard to pass him the glass. “Thanks.” Tony sipped and grimaced at the bitter taste of the Alka Seltzer. After downing the contents in four large gulps, he slipped the glass on the nightstand and resumed his supine position with a groaning sigh.

As soon as Bruce had switched off the bathroom lights and joined him, Tony searched his face. “Steve said something about you taking away all of his money and assets? Was he lying?” Bruce averted his one-eyed gaze and busied himself rearranging their blankets over their legs. “He deserved it for what he was trying to do to you. It's over and in the past.” Tony blinked one big, brown eye over at him.

“The urge to protect me is strong in you, well, except for today.” He chuckled at his own, lame joke. Upon seeing Bruce's miserable glare, he sighed. “These kind of secrets are no good in the long run, BB, you and I both know that by now.” He paused to take a deep breath and slipped the sluggish icepack aside. “We need to talk about him. To him. Soon.” Wayne did not reply. Instead, he leaned in to press a soft kiss on his temple.  
  
“Try to sleep.”

+

Tony woke when his bladder complained and the dull pain from his cheekbone flared up. He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake the dark heap that was Bruce under the covers, took the empty glass along, and tiptoed into the bathroom. He squinted against the light before he went to relieve himself. As he washed his hands, Tony regarded himself in the mirror, tilting his chin up to examine the damage done.

The dark splotch around his eye had already turned into a purplish bruise and had swollen to leave nothing but a small slit of his left eye. He reached into the small medicine cabinet and took an Ibuprofen with a few gulps of tap water. His limited eyesight nevertheless had adapted to the darkness of the bedroom as he put the refilled glass of water back onto his nightstand and slid under the warm covers.

Next to him, the mattress moved as Bruce turned from his side onto his back. “Please don't... --” It was a soft, strangled whisper. Tony stilled and waited for a sign to determine whether his husband was awake or dreaming. “I don't want this.” A small sob escaped Bruce's lips as he repeated his devastated plea two more times. Tony swallowed and dared to put a feather-like hand on the nearest part of his arm.

“BB, shhh. Just a dream. Just a dream.”

Instead of waking up, Wayne jerked at the touch and curled up on the side, away from Tony. His mumblings became unintelligible, except for bits and pieces like “... don't, I- can't!” and “my fault”. Tony scooted closer and spooned him, kissing his nape and trying to bring him out of his dark realms. When Bruce woke, it was with a loud gasp for breath. He sat up straight and gulped for as much air as possible.

A palm rested on his heaving back. “BB, relax. It was just a dream. Breathe. Slow and easy.” The hand then began to rub soothing circles into his shirt, causing the Gothamite's shoulders to slump. “Sorry. Sorry, I...” He swallowed against a lump in his throat and wiped at the moisture on his temples. “I should go into the guest room so that you can get your sleep.” Now Tony's hand went around his arm.

“Not happening. Here,” Tony handed him the glass from his nightstand. “Drink.” In three large gulps, the water was gone. They laid back down again, facing each other. “Wanna tell me what it was about?” His question hung in the room for several moments before Bruce spoke in a hushed voice. “Losing everything I got.” Not knowing what to reply, Tony tried for comedy relief. “Told ya I'd do the 'under the bridge' stint. I meant it.”

At the visible unease on Bruce's face, Tony concluded with a soft boop to the tip of his nose. “I betcha Alfred can just as easily dish out waffles on a gas cooker.” Hazel eyes narrowed at that. “It wasn't about material goods. It was - Alfred, the boys... you. Everything was taken from me and I-,” His eyes squeezed shut with a pained expression. “- I was too weak to prevent it from happening.”

At the utter desolation in his voice, Tony tsked and caressed the side of his face. “You'll never get rid of us. Sorry to break it to you like that.” After one more deep intake of breath, Wayne was quick to morph his features into a blank canvas. “Nevermind, just a silly dream. Go back to sleep.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is how I pictured the helicopter shuttle for these two  
> https://youtu.be/kAVgh2AWguo?t=8


	82. Chapter 82

It was past 8 am the next morning when Tony woke alone in their bed.

The smell of Bruce's aftershave clung in the air, but the man in question was nowhere in sight. With his face still throbbing and feeling swollen, Tony sent a quick email to tell everyone at R&D he was going to work from home. After being pampered and pitied by Alfred who brought him breakfast in bed upon Bruce's request, Tony took a shower and retreated to his office to check his emails and to text his absent husband.  
  
  
_The_Starkster 10:38   'I look positively badass (grinning emoji, boxing glove emoji)'_

_B. W. 10:40  'Are you still in pain?'_

_The_Starkster 10:41  'Only from having to wake up alone this morning (sad emoji)'_

_B. W. 10:45  'Just arrived in Metropolis. Board of directors meeting with LexEl Investments.'_

_The_Starkster 10:46  'That was today huh. So then make sure to hit em hard, Rocky (winking emoji)'_

_The_Starkster 10:47  'C'mon now, that was funny. Please don't hit anybody but me (crying laughter emoji)'_

_The_Starkster 10:50  '… hey now, just kidding. Love you. See you tonight!'_

_The_Starkster 10:50  '(heart emoji)'_

_B. W. 10:54  'I try to be back around 10. Eat without me if you're hungry.'_

_B. W. 10:55  'Love you, too.'_

  
With a pensive expression, Tony was about to put the phone aside. A second thought then made him scroll through his contacts. As soon as he had found the desired number, he pressed the little receiver icon. Seconds later, the line got picked up. “Hey Pep, how are you? Oh, really? Man. Uh-huh. Yeah, I can imagine. Okay, I... hey, listen, I have a little favor to ask...”  
  
+

With a sigh, Bruce unbuttoned his jacket and slipped into the private booth of the posh Metropolis restaurant. It was already 7:30, and he yearned to get the mandatory corporate dinner over and done with to finally go home. After asking a passing waitress for a club soda, he brought his phone to life, soaking up the image of Tony that was his lock screen wallpaper before tapping in his code to check his emails.

Approaching chatter and laughter made him look up moments later, barely suppressing a frown. None other than Lex Luthor stood in front of their table, accompanied by two women in skin-tight dresses and high heels. The CEO from Lex-El Investments stood up to greet the females with pecks on their cheeks before Luthor slammed a hand down upon his shoulder and looked into the round of faces at the table.

“Martin here invited us to have dinner with you guys to celebrate the successful day.” His eyes then came to rest upon his long-time business rival who sat and glowered at him. Luthor's grin turned wolfish. “Bruce, been a while.” Wayne's eyes narrowed at the corners as he remained seated. “Luthor.” At that, Lex tutted out loud. “Always so professional. Why, Brucie, let bygones be bygones and just enjoy the evening, no?”

The blonde woman giggled as Luthor pulled a chair for her. The booth was not big enough for three more people, but the LexEl Investments employees made themselves small and managed to wedge the additional invitees in. The brunette squeezed in next to the Gothamite and flashed him a magnificent smile. “I am usually not this forthcoming. Good thing Gotham's Finest is a true gentleman, or so I was told.”

Her immaculately painted lips parted to reveal bright white teeth. Bruce groaned, albeit under his breath, and faked a marvelous simper to go with her lame joke. There still were no beverages on the table, and from the looks of it, Lex Luthor had not even bothered to order, busy flirting with the blonde to his right. A waiter finally passed their table, carrying a tray filled with different glasses and bottles.

Bruce raised the proffered drink to his lips and took a sip, only to crinkle his brows and lower the glass. The taste made him swallow hard. “I wanted a club soda. This is vodka.” Unfortunately, the waiter was already out of earshot. At the other end of the table, Luthor waved him off with an air of nonchalance. “There must have been a mistake at the bar, my bad. Just keep it, no biggie. Next round's coming up soon.”

To distract himself, Bruce put the glass aside and went for his phone again. The urge to have a drink remained a faint nagging in the back of his head, but he pushed it away and focused on browsing through his latest unread emails. That was until the brunette, who had introduced herself as Lydia, demanded his attention again. “I am so curious. Do tell - what does the Prince of Gotham think of Metropolis?”

Bruce Wayne sighed again. It was going to be a long evening.  
  
+

It was 10:47 pm when Tony's phone blinked an incoming call. He was lounging in the library, listening to some relaxing tunes via the old record player Alfred had forbidden him to modify. As soon as he picked up, a steady hum in the background greeted him, indicating that Bruce was already aboard a plane. "I've just been thinking about you, BB. It might have to do something with Etta Jones singing about 'The Man I Love'."

Bruce sighed in his ear, almost too easy to miss. "Tony." He then took another audible, deep breath. "I apologize for being late but it couldn't be helped. I should be in Gotham before midnight." From where he had gotten up to turn the volume down a little, Tony glimpsed at the back of the record cover. "No worries, I'll wait up. So, how did it go? Are those Lex goons somewhat capable and playing ball the way they should?"

An awkward pause set in, filled only by Etta James' lyrics to 'Trust In Me'. When Bruce Wayne spoke, his voice was subdued. "I consumed something tonight. By accident. It wasn't much, but I-" He hesitated. "I wanted to be honest with you." Tony put the record cover back and walked over to the window front. "I appreciate that, BB, really. How do you feel? Do you want me to come and pick you up from the airfield?"

"No. I am fine, it just- feels like a setback."

Tony switched the phone from his left into his right hand. "It's not a setback, love, I am insanely proud of you for handling things so well, okay? You got that?" As expected, Bruce gave no vocal confirmation and only cleared his throat instead. "Less than an hour, then I am home." Weariness crept through his voice. They listened to each other's breaths for a few moments until Tony smiled into the dark outside the Manor.

"I'm counting on it. And then I make sure you'll stay with me for the rest of the week. I ain't the only one needing a time-out."

 


	83. Chapter 83

The next Saturday, around noon, faint sunlight streamed through a huge glass roof, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. Inside the Manor's well-kept, vast conservatory, sounds from a small Victorian marble fountain in the back pattered along, creating steady, soothing white noise.

Bruce Wayne sat in a rattan chair with crème-colored pillows, dressed in a black, knitted sweater and dark, fitted jeans. An open laptop, pens, and papers decorated the table in front of him. Ever so often, he would have to pause scrolling to reach for a mug on his right, seeing his left was otherwise occupied. Close by his side, little Ava sat in a highchair, her small chubby fingers fascinated by the size and texture of his hand.

When she eventually decided his shiny wedding band was of no interest to her anymore, seeing she could not get it off his finger, she busied herself gleefully throwing every single item she could get her hands on off the table. “Ava Josephine. That is not helpful.” At his stern voice, the baby erupted in a bout of giggles. Bruce gave her a judgmental-heavy look before he bent down to pick up the strewn report pages.

His actions made her squeal out in delight even more, bobbing up and down in her chair. Before the faint smile on Bruce's face could grow in size as well, a familiar, deep voice interrupted from behind. “Are you two having fun?” Tony put his hands on his husband's shoulders and grinned at the sight of plump little, seven-months-old Ava Hogan chewing and drooling upon one of Wayne's expensive Mont Blanc pens.

Bruce cleared his throat and steeled his features to frown at the screen. “Fun is an incorrect term for quarterly reports to the board.” Leaning in to read over his shoulder, Tony gave a shudder of dismay. “All work and no play.” He stole a kiss and eyed the lively girl again. “Isn't that right, princess? Good thing you're having fun, as opposed to uncle Bruce here.” At that, the toddler pointed a drool-coated finger at the billionaire.

“Bru-Bu?”

Said man glowered. Snickering along, Tony bent down to pick the girl up and take the pen from her mouth, eliciting an instant sound of displeasure. “Yeah, but uncle Bru-Bu is kinda busy right now, sweetheart. Why don't we go and see where Alfred is hiding the biscuits, hmm? Do you want a biscuit for those cutie teeth you're sprouting?” Ava blabbered at him. As he held her up, Tony then sniffed and pulled a face.

“Eek. Looks like someone needs a wardrobe change first. Let's go, Madam, your carriage awaits.” She shrieked as he blew a raspberry on her arm and whirled her around with airplane sounds. Bruce glimpsed up. “Don't give her biscuits, she is supposed to eat lunch in half an hour.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Responsible adult.”

“Same thing. Say bye-bye to Bru-Bu, little darling.”

An indistinguishable squeal or giggle erupted, accompanied by Tony's jovial laughter.

Once they were gone, Bruce pulled a good-natured face at the gooey pen and put it gingerly aside.

+

Footsteps from behind re-entered the conservatory ten minutes later. Almost done with the revenue report, Bruce kept his eyes on the screen.  
  
“Did you get her diaper changed?”

“Guess so. The little poop factory here smells rather fresh.”

The voice did not belong to Tony. Lightning fast, Bruce whirled around to see Jason standing in the doorway of the conservatory, infant in the crook of his arm, looking like a mixture between awkwardly out of place and his usual, cocky self. He sauntered closer to the glowering man across from him with a mischievous smirk. “Daddy Stark said you're less likely to attack me when I carry a certain human being. Was he correct?”

The rattan chair scraped loudly across the granite floors as Wayne rose to his feet. Jason stopped walking and held little Ava up in front of him like a human shield. The Gothamite shot him a withering look while his fingers clenched around the backrest. “Whoa hey, easy. This baby is armed and I'm not shy of using it, Bruce.” At the mention of his name, Ava got agitated and began to wiggle in Jason's grip. “Ngh. Bru-Bu.”

Todd lowered his arms to try and hold her against his chest as Tony had shown him to. The toddler's face twisted into a bout of open dismay at his foreign presence, and her small hands pressed against Jason's shoulder as she squirmed. “Give her to me.” Bruce's voice was low and modulated. Jason looked up from the wriggling child in his arm. “And lose my only chance at keeping my head on? Don't think so. Hey, stop that!”

An unhappy Ava started to wail, and that was when the billionaire stepped forward and took her from Jason's arm without preamble. He then turned his back on his son and walked away, towards the panorama windows of the conservatory, speaking in uncommonly soft, hushed tones to the bundle in his arms. Todd watched with a raised eyebrow how the child went from fractious to pliable in less than a minute.

“This is some fuckin high-level blackmailing shit right there, Batdad, just saying.”

Wayne's eyes held a certain fire as he looked over his shoulder. “Watch your mouth around her.” After a stare-down, Jason dared to roll his eyes. “Whatever. So, yeah, I come in peace, okay?” Bruce did not answer. In his arms, Ava reached for his free hand and he allowed her to gnaw her toothless gums on the knuckle of his index finger. Jason shoved his palms flat into the back pockets of his jeans.

“You gotta give me something to work with here, B-man.” A glacial stare. “I want to know why.” Jason smirked. “Why what? Why I laid down my life for you guys? Spoiler alert – I didn't. Never intended to. All I wanted was some fun and action, then things got out of hand, so I decided to scram while I still could. Managed to get a few good hits in until Iron Dad swooped in to save the day and took care of the rest.”

Bruce's chest rose and fell, and he unconsciously pressed Ava a little tighter against it. Jason gave a bored-looking shrug. “Despite everything, he let her live. Must be your do-gooder attitude rubbing off on him.” Ava blubbered softly, getting Bruce's instant attention. He walked back over to place her in the high chair again. Jason adopted a defensive stance when his father turned to face him. “Why didn't you get in touch?”

Letting his arms sink, the boy stuffed his hands into his hoodie. “Thought about it. But you always said lay low, mind your surroundings, blabla. So I did. And after a while, it didn't seem wise to stir up a potential hornets' nest.” Bruce Wayne regarded him through narrowed eyes for the longest time. “I have work to do.” With that, the billionaire resumed his seat and brought his laptop out of energy-saving mode.

Jason stared at his back for the longest time before he turned on his heel and left the conservatory.

+

“You're still alive. Congratulations.”

Tony's deep voice caught up with him as soon as Jason entered the kitchen.

“No thanks to you. He disarmed me in less than five.”

“You know he's the best.”

With a snort, Jason hopped onto the counter. Undeterred, Tony continued to sip his coffee and skimmed across the newspaper. “Ava's got him wrapped around her little fingers. I don't see you taking the favorite child role back from her anytime soon.” A rotten tsk. “I'm not putting on a diaper in case that's where you're headed.” Stark gave him a roguish grin and got up from where he had been sitting backward on the chair.

“You and Bruce just need to reconnect on a deeper level.” Jason slid from the counter and walked over to reach for the fridge before Tony could. “I'll leave that to the two of you. Big yuck.” Tony jabbed an elbow into his side and put his cup in the dishwasher. “Remind me to buy you a dildo so huge and fat that you can go and fuck yourself.” That brought the first real laughter out of Jason, and Tony could not help but to grin along.

“Where were you ten years ago, Daddy Stark? I would've needed you growing up.”  
Tony resumed his place at the table and reached into the stuffed pencil box for the newspaper's weekend crossword puzzle.  
“I would've dressed your minor ass in rainbow colors and given you Twinkies for dinner. Bad idea.”

“Point.”

Once Jason had dug through the whole content of the fridge, he settled for a can of soda and spun a wooden chair around to sit on it with his arms crossed upon the backrest just like Tony. “What about the guys?” Tony's eyes found his over the rim of his reading glasses. “Your brothers you mean.” Jason nodded, sipping again, watching him scribble something down into the squares. “I kinda doubt the baby trick works on them.”

That was when Tony slid the glasses down to the tip of his nose. “Allow me to go Rhett Butler on you for a sec: Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.” Jason scowled around the soda can but Tony had focused back on his crossword puzzle. “You fucked things up with your father, go see if you can do better with your brothers. Oh, hey, any idea for this one while you're here? Another word for constipation with five letters.”

With the most deadpan expression, Jason put down his drink.  
“Bruce.”  
Tony tilted his head as his pen hovered over the empty squares, doing a mental tally.  
  
“Close, but no cigar.”

 


	84. Chapter 84

“That was a rotten thing to do.”

Two dark-brown eyes blinked up at the person standing in the doorway of their dressing room. “I cannot take your threatening demeanor seriously when you're covered in baby powder from head to toe, my love.” Tony slid his favorite leather jacket from the hanger, slipped it on, and closed the folding doors. With an angry brush over the white stains on his black sweater, Bruce followed him out into the corridor.

“Where is he?”

“Who?”  
Bruce's teeth made a low, grating sound.  
“You know who.”

Tony weaved around his solid frame to grab his wallet and phone from a nearby sideboard. “Ah, you mean our son. Said he's allergic to baby saliva and scrammed after you gave him the silent treatment.” Before Bruce was able to counter his statement, Tony swung around, grabbed his face in between his palms and pressed a big kiss right upon his lips. “Can we talk about this later? I've got a precious cargo delivery right now.”

Bedazzled by the kiss, Wayne licked his lips and blinked at him several times until he cleared his throat.  
“Yes. We... should.”  
Tony graced him with another magnificent smile before he dashed down the stairs where Alfred was waiting.

+

“Guess which pretty princess gets to ride in her fancy carriage today?”

Tony kept on cooing at the infant in the backseat as he put the Mercedes GLE coupe into drive mode and maneuvered it out of its parking slot. Behind him, Ava wiggled in her rear-facing seat and glimpsed up at the mirror to meet his gaze. She erupted in a lengthy string of indistinguishable blabberings. “Right you are, Beautiful, it's a real shame, but your mommy and daddy wanted to have you back today.”

They drove along empty roads to Tony belting out his renditions of all the songs playing on the radio, which had Ava squeaking and giggling at the faces he made for her in the mirror. As soon as Tony had bid the Hogans goodbye and headed home, his mobile blinked several incoming messages. Seeing he was driving, Tony put them on the digital console display of the Mercedes to be able to at least read along.

_RichieRich 16:48 'Did any of you see the headline of the Gotham Gazette??'_

_RichieRich 16:48  'WTF is going on?'_

_TWayne 16:50  'No, why? Screenshot?'_

_RichieRich 16:52  '[file sent 00092_gg.jpg]_

_DemonDami 16:55  'heads need to roll' (knife emoji)_

_TWayne 16:56  'agreed!' (angry emoji)_

_RichieRich 16:57  'I vote for lawsuit'_

Since the car's electronics were unable to display the attached file, Tony had no clue what his sons were arguing about. He, therefore, sent them a voice mail and told them to hold their horses until he was able to drive by a small newsstand and buy one of those aforementioned issues.

_'Royal Canoodling: Prince of Gotham Getting Cozy in Metropolis'_

The headline was so absurd that Tony actually laughed out loud upon reading it the first time. The story on page six led to a multitude of blurred pictures that were taken outside a venue at night. It turned out to be a posh restaurant in Metropolis' financial district. The paparazzi photos showed Bruce Wayne at a table surrounded by several other people, in close proximity to a leggy brunette in a revealing, tight dress.

Adrenaline flooded Tony's body before he knew what was going on. He managed to drive the rest of the way back to the Manor without looking at the offending item on the passenger seat again. Trudging into the living room, Tony was back to studying the grainy cover when the door clicked shut. Feeling caught, he lowered the paper just before two arms went around his waist and there was a soft kiss on the side of his throat.

“Did you get Ava home safely?”

“Mhm.”

Seeing Tony remained rigid and unresponsive, Bruce stopped nuzzling his neck and looked at his profile.

“Did she cry or make a scene?”

“She didn't.” With that, Tony twisted out of the embrace and held up the paper in one hand. “I might, though.” With that, Tony slapped it at Bruce's chest. Wayne took it before it dropped to the floor and looked at the headline. His face morphed into a sinister grimace. “Those board of director meetings really are something else, aren't they?” Tony's words were meant to sound cheeky, but his voice lacked true enthusiasm.

Bruce crumpled the newspaper in one fist and strode over to head for the nearest dustbin. “This is ridiculous.” It landed in the trash with a thud. Tutting noises followed him. “Bit late for that realization though.” Wayne's expression turned strained. “Oh, please. Can't you see what this is?” Hurt swung within his quiet question. Tony crossed his arms. “Hm, actually I'm not sure. But what is it, according to you?”

An accusing index finger pointed at the treacherous piece of paper within the trashcan. “This is Luthor's work. He is trying to tear us apart by spreading lies and you are falling for it!” Tony pulled a mock-sad grimace. “Poor you being forced to cozy up to a pair of fake tits for the world to see.” With each of his words, Bruce's jaw became tighter. Eventually, Wayne exhaled with a vigorous shake of the head.

“You are angry even though you have no reason to be. I should be angry at being mistrusted.”

“Do not twist things around here, BB. I can easily give Lex a call and get the full story from him.” At that, Wayne's face turned into a mask of stone. “I am sure _Lex_ is counting on it.” The words were dripping acid. Tony swung around to look out of the window, a hand curled around the edge of the windowsill. It took a few moments until he spoke again.

“See, I know you have good reasons to flirt, I mean look at you, for fuck's sake. The whole GQ package wrapped up in Armani, smelling like money and luxury and expensive fragrance from miles away.” At that, Tony turned around and was met with Bruce's unreadable expression. “Face it, Mister W, you're a panty dropper showstopper. I really don't blame her for trying.” The billionaire crossed his arms with a vexed expression.

“That woman was brought along by Luthor. I was told she is a lawyer, not a hired escort like this trash rag says. What would you have wanted me to do? Have her removed from the table in front of all of LexEl Investments managers?” Tony put up a haughty stance. “Telling her not to sit in your lap would've been a start!”

“She did not sit-” Seething along, Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “Forget it. We'll talk about this when you're rational enough to have a conversation with.”

“Says the man with the biggest communication issues in a ten-mile radius.”

The Gothamite took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I am trying to have a conversation with you now,” He punctuated every word. “Because I am leaving in less than an hour.” With that, Bruce stepped closer and tried to take his elbow to get him to meet his eyes. Tony sidestepped him, making him narrow his eyes. “So the never part in anger mantra only applies on your terms?” A finger pointed at Bruce's chest.

“I am not done being mad, Bruce. Not now, not in an hour. You could've told me, just like you told me you had a drink. But you didn't. And now I'm left thinking why you didn't feel like telling me this, and the result sucks.” Wayne's eyes turned cold. “Don't lecture me about trust, Anthony, after lying to me about Jason for weeks!” At that, Tony's features became hard and unforgiving. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

Bruce balled his hands into fists and stormed off.

Tony heard him punch the secret melody into the innocent piano keys before there was only silence in its wake. When Tony returned from his impromptu mountain bike tour, his husband had already left the premises. Alfred sought out Tony's brooding form around dinnertime. “I have heard about the effrontery, Master Anthony. Allow me to offer my deepest regrets for this unseemly and disgusting issue.”

Nodding along, Tony accepted the bowl of steamed rice and vegetables. “Damage's done, I just need to wrap my head around it." As he sat and punctuated his food with a fork, the butler presented him with a napkin. "Even if it is none of my concerns, I would vouch for Master Bruce's integrity any given day." Mouth full, Tony munched with a miserable expression and swallowed. "That's what I try to tell myself, too, but-"

He looked down into the bowl again. "Once bitten, twice shy, you know? I know he's no Steve, but I just can't help myself." Pennyworth took his words without any objection, for what Tony was glad. “However, Sir, I am sorry but there have been calls from the young Sirs' schools about several incidents.” Tony suppressed a groan. “Nothing can make this day any shittier, Al, tell me.” Pennyworth cleared his throat.

“Master Timothy got into a brawl at the campus, defending his parents' marriage. He is unharmed but deeply enraged.”

“Looks like his defense lessons really paid off, huh?” At Tony's listless humor attempt, the butler put his hands behind his back. “Also, allegations were made about 'stabbing someone's eyeballs out'.” Tony let that piece of information sink in. Eventually, he gave a tired shrug and ran a palm over his face. “I don’t think Timmy'd ever stab someone. Let’s be honest, Al, he barely gets the straw into a Capri Sun.” Alfred tilted his head.  
  
“Frankly, Sir, I was talking about Master Damian.”  
They shared a knowing look. Tony sighed.  
“Should've figured. Such big evil in such a tiny fella.”

“Do you require any assistance, Sir?”

“No, thanks Al, I'm good. I'll speak to them."

 


	85. Chapter 85

After dinner, Tony summoned Richard, Tim, and Damian for a video conference about the incidents of the day. When all four squares of the screen were filled with faces, Tony's top left square folded its arms over his chest. “Who told you it was okay to go and beat up your fellow students?” Before his brothers could reply, Damian stuck out his chin. “They deserve the worst bodily-inflicted mutilations for speaking ill of our family.”

Despite the slightly delayed connection, Richard and Tim seemed to be nodding along. Tony bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “I thought your father and I had taught you better.” Richard leaned forward. “You have taught us to stand up to injustice, which is exactly what we've done. What does dad have to say about all this?” Tony uncrossed his arms to run a hand through his hair as he leaned back.

“He's not here, we... had an argument.”

Tim piped up. “But you don't believe what that paper says, do you?” Tony fought hard to keep his face neutral. “Our argument involved certain other... developments you need to know about, but it's not on me to tell you.” Three faces morphed into various states of dismay. Richard leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk.

“Dad would never be unfaithful. He may be stubborn as a mule, but he is no cheater. Whatever the magazine is saying, they are lying.” His brothers remained silent and watched Tony avoiding direct eye contact. “I sure hope so, kiddo. I sure hope so.” Richard gave a heartfelt nod and Tim chimed in once again. “You're gonna fix things, Tony, aren't you?” Damian stopped stabbing a flat leg divider onto his desktop and glimpsed up.

“You're the only one who can save us from the apocalypse.” The burning intensity in his voice made Tony smile and nod to himself before he looked up. “Yeah, we'll be okay. We always come out on top - we're Waynes, no?” He looked into the round of young faces. “And I don't want to hear any more complaints about the Wayne boys being bullies, understood?” A mutual grumble. Tony forced a sincere smile on his face.

“That's my boys. Love you guys - see you next weekend.”

+

Long after dusk had fallen, Jason sauntered into the Manor's kitchen. He smelled of cigarette smoke and AXE deodorant. “Heyo Daddy Stark. The Godfather Bat in by any chance?” Tony had just devoured a huge batch of cookie dough ice cream and stood rinsing the spoon under the faucet. “No good timing tonight, Jay, leave it be.” The youngster leaned his hip against the counter and put up a brazen grin.

“Why, wassup? He surely has recovered from shock by now.”

Tony did not meet his gaze as he reached down to grab a dishtowel from the hook. “It's nothing.” Intrigued, Jason cocked his head. “Sure sounds and looks like that. Mighty lovers' spat because of me?” Tony flung the dishtowel aside and yanked the drawer open. “None of your damn business.” Grin still present, Jason put his hands up in defense. “Hey, I just wanna help. Why does everyone always assume the worst of me?”

With a defeated sigh, Tony dropped the spoon and closed the drawer again. “To save time, Jay. To save time.” Instead of backing down, Todd slapped his palms and rubbed them together with a manic grin. “So he's out there, channeling his inner beast. Fine with me. Imma go catch up with his alter ego first then.” A downright weary look was thrown his way. “You really have a suicidal streak, don't you?”

Already in the doorway, Jason tapped two fingers against his temple in a cocky salute.

“YOLO never quite did it for me.”

+

Astute eyes behind a red balaclava took in the scene at the abandoned furnace building outside of the Narrows. The air was thick with moisture from a previous downpour, smelling like wet asphalt and faint sewage from the nearby docks. Rumor had it Scarecrow was back in town, at least that was what Jason had managed to extract from the cave's triple-secured servers.

Once he had arrived at the location, the Batman already was wrapped up in what seemed to be a long, tedious fight against a multitude of armed henchmen trying to stop him from foiling their plans. Rusted metal crunched under his boots as the hooded figure burst through the industrial building's glazed sawtooth roof and started joining in on the fight.

Amid punches being thrown and bones being broken, he started to enjoy himself until he had to be fast and duck when a barbed, gloved fist swung his way. “Whoa, you're really in a mood tonight, huh? I've figured things were bad from another trusted source, but...” The dark knight did not reply and continued to diminish his opponents. “Ah, you're playing hard-to-get. That’s cute.”

Despite being snarled at to leave, Jason kneed a masked goon into the face and dropped him to the floor. “Nope, kinda fixated on getting back in your good graces, so the sooner you comply, the sooner I stop nagging.” The Batman's eyes blazed with ire. “Get out of here.” Sounds from above made him reach for his grapple gun, and he was gone in a blur of black. Behind his mask, Jason snarled and went into hot pursuit.

The old furnace building was a labyrinth of dark corners and corrosive surfaces, leading to precarious death trap falls from great heights. Straining to listen for sounds, Jason jumped over a dozen metal ladders until he arrived inside a large hall with a multitude of circular platforms on the ground, some of them cracked or broken. A manic, wheezing laugh echoed through the darkness.

“You should be afraid."  
Jason barked out a laugh and flipped his balisong knife in between his fingers.  
"You wish, fuckerhead. Show yourself and fight like a man."

More laughter and sing-song babble erupted. Jason's eyes darted all across the dark hall, straining to make out any kind of movement. Before he knew what was going on, he found himself pushed out of the way, seconds before a massive glass dome slammed down right where he had stood. It trapped the Batman inside instead and did not budge, no matter how hard they banged against the surface from both sides.

Staring at each other through nothing but the faintest cracks in the thick hull, Jason then noticed a red lamp flashing on a side panel. He slammed his fist against the glass one more time, but to no avail. Seconds later, a cloud of yellow mist engulfed the man inside, causing them to lose visual.

+

Neither Tony nor Alfred were prepared when the call came.

Jason's voice sounded strained over the comm, accompanied by the background noises of the Tumbler's ignition.

Words like 'fear toxin' and 'Bruce' stood out.

Once they exited the elevator at the cave, the Tumbler had just skidded to a screeching stop on the platform. From afar, Tony and Alfred saw the vehicle opening, and Jason in the driver's seat. Next to him sat the slumped figure of the dark knight; unmoving even as Jason all but tore off his cowl and threw it aside. Tony sprinted onward just as Jason took Bruce's cheeks in between his right hand and tilted his head up.

“Fuck this, Bruce - no! Come on!”

His voice was uncharacteristically frantic. When he released him, Bruce's head lolled back down to his chest. Tony reached the vehicle and pressed two fingers against his husband's neck. “How much did he ingest?” Jason swore as he climbed out of the driver's seat. “Dunno. Probably enough to drive a whole hockey team insane.” Panic set in upon not finding a pulse right away, and Tony yelled out for his AI. “Jarvis, vital scan!”

Several lines and graphics lit up the cave's screens until the AI spoke. “Mister Wayne is alive, but his vitals are spiking. An antidote is needed to avoid multi-organ failure.” Together with Alfred, the three of them hauled the heavily-armored body out of the Tumbler and put him flat out on the gurney. “Lucius created an antidote for a similar case of fear toxin poisoning, back in the days.” The butler's face was strained and grave. 

Tony thus ordered Jarvis to analyze the data from Bruce's computer. After less than two minutes, they had the results.

“I am sorry, Sir, but the synthesis of the antidote does not match the current toxin.”  
With a final, desperate glance at Bruce's ashen, lifeless form, Tony straightened up.  
“I'll head to the Tower, see if I can get the missing components from the lab.”

 


	86. Chapter 86

He was in his suit in less than two minutes, whooshing out of the cave at maximum velocity before engaging Mach 1. Taking sharp turns around the many skyscrapers downtown, Tony reached Wayne Tower ten minutes later. Jarvis initiated an endless loop on the security system while Iron Man entered his basement office and started scanning databases for anything that would help create an effective antidote.

After ten minutes, during which sweat ran down his temples despite the suit's air-conditioning systems, Tony was able to extract the fear toxin's DNA and modify it to reverse its effects with the help of his AI and the mainframe in his office. “Jarvis, upload the data onto the supercomputer in the cave. I'm heading back.”

“Antidote in production. However, Mister Wayne is going into a series of ventricular tachycardias as we speak."

"What? What does-"

“It might result in cardiac arrest and turn into ventricular fibrillation, which is to be avoided at all costs, Sir."

“NO! DO SOMETHING!”

"Mister Pennyworth and Mister Todd are currently setting up a defibrillator.”

Tony gritted his teeth and increased his pace even more.

He returned to the cave to the sight of Alfred and Jason stepping away from Bruce's bare chest as the CPR machine bleeped two times before a shock went through the motionless body on the gurney. What followed was the monotone beep of a flatline. Tony heard himself call out. “NO! DO IT AGAIN! JARVIS!” The AI did as it was told. “Everyone step back from the table, please. Two-phase shock with a hundred and fifty joule.”

The flatline persisted. Tears threatened Tony's vision as he slipped back the faceplate to look at the limp body of his husband. “My love, please, don't do this to me, don't you fucking dare to do this!! God, BB please, it's all my fault, I swear--” He held onto the gurney even as his gauntlets left grinding imprints within the massive steel. “-- I love you, I need you, I need you, you can't leave me... please, please no...”

Behind him, Jason stood with gritted teeth, staring at his feet, while Alfred Pennyworth dipped his head, folded his hands, and began to murmur. The heart rate monitor then displayed a brief sequence of semi-regular blips. Under tears, Tony raised his head. “Jarvis?!” The poignant pause felt like the longest seconds in Tony's life. “Reanimation process successful.” Frantic eyes searched for Alfred.

“The antidote! Quick!”

A huge spasm went through Bruce's body and it took all of Jason's weight to pin him down as Alfred administered the syringe. Tony followed the process on the nearby monitors, eyes fixated on the vitals, ready to intervene any second. As soon as Bruce's body had gone limp again, all of them waited with baited breath. Nothing happened. Fear constricted within Tony's throat. “Jarvis, why... why won't he wake up?”

“Mister Wayne's resilience to the toxin is outstanding, but the large amount and direct toxic effect have let to a comatose state."

Like someone had cut his strings, Iron Man dropped to his knees.

"No, that's... that's not true. That can't be true."

"I am sorry, Sir. For the moment, there are no remedies."

Burying his face within gauntleted palms, Tony half-sobbed, half-cursed out loud. Next to him, Alfred braced himself against one of his armored shoulders, the silence indicating the butler was on the verge of a breakdown himself. Undeterred, Jarvis displayed various charts on the cave's monitors before he spoke again.

"Allow me to initiate a 24-hour hypothermia protocol to guarantee a better neurological status. This procedure will keep his heart at less than 50 heartbeats per minute. During the sinus bradycardia, Mister Wayne's heart rhythm, as well as all other vital functions, will be constantly measured."

With legs feeling like jelly inside the suit, Tony eventually staggered to his feet and nodded. He tried to take a deep breath despite the anxiety that was close to overwhelming him. “I... I have to inform the boys.” At that, Jason who had faded into the cave's dark background stepped up into the small circle of artificial light with a grim expression.  
  
“I'll take care of that.”

+

In the early morning hours, three tired and very worried young boys hovered around the parlor of the Manor. If it had not been for the serious occasion, Tony would have reveled at having all of his family gathered around once again. After Jason had dropped the proverbial bomb on them in a way Tony did not care about for the moment, Richard, Tim, and Damian had arrived together, in a car steered by no one else but Todd himself.

Having composed himself, the butler shepherded all of the young and pale faces into the kitchen and started to prepare hot beverages. The small party of six gathered around the kitchen table after Jarvis had deemed it okay for them to leave the cold and clammy confines of the cave for a quick status quo meeting. Alfred Pennyworth walked around and filled cups with either coffee or, in Damian's case, cocoa.

“This is not the family reunion I have wished for.” Tony's voice was low and sounded nothing like his usual self. He looked into the round of anxious faces and gripped his coffee mug tight. “I am glad all of you are here, though. We need to have several contingency plans for the upcoming weeks, just in case.” He gestured at the chair next to him with his chin, and the butler sunk down without protest.

“I will speak to Lucius. Bruce Wayne can be away on business without any suspicions.” Alfred's hands slightly shook but he busied them with folding a dishtowel. Without thinking, Tony reached out and grabbed his forearm. “Perfect.” They shared a look of mutual, silent comfort. Jason cleared his throat. “I'll take care of the Batman stuff. Just so people don't think he's gone missing. Show up here and there, make a few rounds.”

His brothers looked at him, still trying to grasp the fact he was alive and sitting next to them. Richard glanced over at Tony, waiting for him to say something. When Tony only gave a slow nod, Todd pushed his chair back with a scraping sound and left the kitchen. “Jason was the development you couldn't tell us about, right?” Richard's voice was quiet. Tim looked like he was about to speak, but Damian hit his knuckles with a teaspoon.

Hand curled around his mug, Tony dully nodded along. “Your father and I were of different opinions when it came to how to treat your brother after his sudden reappearance. The Gotham Gazette incident only was... the icing of the cake, so to speak.” He drew in a shuddering breath as he recalled the last words he had spoken to Bruce. His face twisted with infinite sorrow and in return, a weathered hand now appeared upon his arm.

“Master Anthony, you should get some rest. It does no one good if you overexert yourself.”

“I doubt I can sleep, Al, I'm going to take first watch.”

+

After hurrying down into the cave, Tony paused in the doorway of the elevator. Jason was standing close to the medical bay, face partly hidden under the hood of his sweater. His head was hung low and it seemed as if he was talking to the motionless body of his father. When the elevator shut with a metal clang, it brought Todd out of his reverie. He straightened up and put his hands into the pockets of his oversized hoodie.

“I'm gonna do a quick wardrobe check, but I doubt I can rock the Batsuit like he does. One of those older versions might just do the trick, though.” They both eyed the different Batsuits lined-up in their respective Plexiglass cases high up on the nearby arsenal gallery. “It's just for appearances' sake, don't get into any compromising situations.” Tony's objection was met with an eye-roll. “Oh, please, remember whom you're talking to.”

Nerves already fried, Tony snarled and jabbed a finger straight into his chest. “Exactly! Fuckin listen to me, Jay, alright!? I ain't losing another member of this family because of my stupid-ass decisions!” Their eyes warred with each other until Todd scrunched up half of his face. “The fuck are you talking about?” Tony pressed thumb and index finger into the sockets of his eyes.  
  
“This here is all my fault.”  
After less than a second, Jason gave a loud, derisive snort.  
“Like hell it is.”  
  
Taking away his hand, Tony blinked several times. “We parted in anger, I shouldn't have let him go out like that – unfocused and...” Jason's angry face entered his line of view. “That's bull, Daddy Stark. He was risking his fucking neck to save my ass out there. Ain't no one better focused than him. You better believe me if I tell you that if he hadn't been focused, I'd be lying in his place now. Or rather six feet under.”

Tony's eyes darted in between those of his oldest son for the longest time. “So what you're saying is...-” A morose nod. “If anything, it's my goddamn fucking fault, okay? And I'm gonna make it right so that when he wakes up he can yell at me and all the ways I fucked up but at least then I can yell back at him that I did it his way once, and exactly where it mattered!” Jason's voice had gone up until he was almost shouting.

Tony swallowed and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. “Go play dress-up-doll until you find a good fit. Then you tell Jarvis you want to deploy project 'Batbuster showreel 2.0'. That way I can at least let you go out there with a halfway clean conscience.” Todd snatched the flying flash drive out of the air and stared at it for a few heartbeats. Eventually, a roguish, challenging grin made its way over his face.

"Will do, Iron Nanny."

 


	87. Chapter 87

Tony did not notice Jason leave that night, too caught up in conferring with Jarvis about the possibilities of transferring and taking care of Bruce in a bedroom upstairs. “Mister Wayne's vitals are holding steady since the past thirty minutes. I suggest a supervision phase of five more hours before relocation matters can be initiated.” Eyes burning from exhaustion, Tony nodded and settled in for a long wait.

Alfred hovered on the edges of his periphery every now and then, checking on both of them and providing Tony with much-needed hot beverages and protein shakes to ward off the shaky feel of low blood sugar levels. Around 7 am the next morning, Jarvis gave them the official okay to move things up into the private quarters of the manor. Lucius Fox called when the boys and Tony were about to get the bedroom ready.

Fox offered to provide any missing medical equipment, but thanks to the well-stocked cave and its omnipresent AI system, Alfred gratefully declined. The butler entered the bedroom to find a portable monitoring unit already attached to the patient in the bed to keep them informed on any changes in Bruce's condition. Tony looked up from where his hands were busy adjusting the strap of an oxygen mask over his husband's face.

"Lucius sends his regards. He is going to inform the board Master Wayne has left for Singapore earlier today."  
The faintest of smiles flitted over Tony's haggard features.  
"And don't we know how much he hates heading east because it gives him the worst jet lag. Don't you, BB?"

He gave a sad smile and brushed a tender knuckle along Bruce's temple. And almost jumped back with a startled little yelp. "There... there was movement - Alfred, Alfred have you seen it, too? I swear I've seen his eyelids flutter." The butler stepped closer and they inspected what was visible of the still countenance of his protege. "Mister Wayne is starting to show minimum but widespread neural activity across the brain."

Jarvis' diagnosis should prove correct. Within the time span of two days, Bruce went through several stages of fighting the toxin inside his bloodstream. At some point, the fear gas had worn off enough to reduce him to a groaning mess fidgeting in between the sheets and sweating so much that Alfred had to change them every two hours. As a result, they hooked him up to an IV because he was losing fluids too fast.

During his ongoing delirium, he resulted to regress to mumbling bits and pieces of another language, one that neither Alfred nor Tony understood at first. Jarvis was quick to help them out. “Mister Wayne is speaking Dzongkha, the national language of the Bhutanese.” Alfred and Tony locked eyes. “What is he saying?” The AI paused to record and analyze the audio.

“He keeps repeating that he does not want to kill the man. There are also lots of repetitive pleas to stop – of what remains unclear. Oh, and Mister Wayne repeatedly threatens someone to leave his family alone.” When the butler stood up to get a fresh bowl of water to dip the rags in, Tony leaned in and took one of Bruce's hands. “My love, I don't know if you can hear me, but we are all waiting for you to come back to us.”

He gave a gentle squeeze to Bruce's cold fingers and stroked his thumb over the wedding ring on his left. “I know it sounds selfish but I am not prepared to raise these four wonderful boys all alone. You gotta come back to us.” Moisture in his eyes made Tony lean back and wipe the back of his free hand across his eyes. “No, you know what? You will come back to us. I can feel it.” He blinked upward until the excess liquid was gone.

"And because I know, I'm going to start planning our summer vacation. If anyone deserves a break, it's this freaking family.”  
He glimpsed at too still features and brought his lips down to breathe a kiss on those cold knuckles.  
“I've never been kissed under the stars on an island.”

+

The first time Bruce woke was in the early morning hours. As usual, Tony's slumped figure was sitting in a wing chair next to his bed, dozing against an overwhelming tiredness. Despite Alfred asking him to get some real sleep in a bed, Tony had remained by Bruce's side all the time, hoping his presence might make a difference. At the first, soft sounds, he pushed himself up and wiped a groggy hand over his face.

“BB?”

“Ngh.”

Once Tony bent over to catch his gaze, Wayne drew back at first, unfocused.

“Easy, easy, hey. Water?”

“Mh.”

He gently unclasped the oxygen mask, guided a straw in between Bruce's chapped lips, and held it in place. After two sips, Wayne turned his head away and Tony put the glass back. “Wh'r am I?” “You're at the Manor, everything is safe and under control.” Tired eyes flickered shut. “Do you hurt anywhere?” Nervous, Tony put a tender hand on his wrist, feeling his pulse flutter. With a negating sound, Bruce forced them open again.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?”

Wetting his lips, the Gothamite swallowed. “Scarecrow. Fear gas chamber. T' rest... blurry.” His voice was rough from days of not using it. “When Jay drove you back here, you were barely alive, and the time till the antidote was ready...” Tony shuddered and hid his face within a palm. “I thought you'd left us for good. It's been almost a week, and you were so far gone, and I couldn't...” He choked up and gave a mirthless laugh.

“... those were the worst days of my life. Sorry, I--”  
Bruce allowed him to shed soundless tears against the hollow of his neck, burying his nose in Tony's thick hair.  
“Kiss me.”

It was a hoarse whisper, but Tony was quick to oblige. Bruce's lips were too warm and dry but they felt alive. “Never do that again, I wouldn't know what... goddammit, I love you too much and I... – fuck.” Tony dipped his forehead against Bruce's and sniffed against the ongoing prickle in his nose and eyes.

“S'rry, I--”

The apology for passing out never made it out as Bruce's half-lidded eyes became unfocused and his head dropped into the pillow. With brimming eyes, Tony brushed a palm over his bearded cheek. “It's okay, BB, sleep. Sleep is good.” He pressed a gentle kiss against Bruce's temple but the latter was already out cold.

+

“If it's too much I'll throw them all out.”

Tony's voice was jaunty but held implicit concern. Bruce looked at the circle of people around his bed. There was Alfred, trying to put up a brave facade and carrying a tray with a bowl on it. Richard and Tim with stricken looks on their faces but nevertheless smiling at him. Damian with a scowl, trying to appear unworried but failing. Jason standing on the far left, close to the door, looking at the blanket at Bruce's feet.

“Everyone just wanted to see your gorgeous face smiling at them at least once.”  
Bruce's mouth turned into a grim line.  
“As if.”  
  
Richard and his brothers shared a look.  
“Yup, back to his normal self again.”  
Their mutual grins spoke of heartfelt relief.

Pennyworth walked around the bed and put the tray on the nightstand. He and the man inside the bed exchanged a look that seemed to say more than any words would have been able to convey, and with a brief clasp of one of Bruce's shoulders, the butler sniffed once and straightened up, poised and composed as always. “Master Wayne still needs sufficient time to recuperate.”  
  
Pennyworth then made a rounding-up gesture to which the Wayne sons left with him, albeit under murmurs.  
  
“Jason-”  
At Bruce's rasp, all of them turned around. He and his eldest son made eye contact for the first time.  
“Stay.”  
  
Tony and Alfred shared a look, but Todd grimaced and gave a curt nod.

As soon as the door had shut behind them, Jason pulled a face and crossed his arms. “Oh God, we’re not gonna have to hug or anything, right?” Wayne regarded him and the way he started kicking the tip of his sneakers into the carpet for the longest time. “I owe you my life.” His son made a disparaging noise. “Well, if you hadn't been keen on playing the fucking hero, this whole mess could've been avoided.”

“Not an option.”

“Seriously, Bruce, for a guy who hates my guts, you're awfully keen on keeping me alive.”

“Cut the crap, Jason.”

The Gothamite paused, trying to carry on speaking even though it came out hitched. “I realize you are capable of defending your own. What you need to realize is that what you did back then was the worst thing you could have done.” Todd's features morphed into a mixture of anger and frustration. “I just wanted to help, okay?” He gave a punch to the solid windowsill and turned his back on his father.

“They were going to take away what we've got! No one should dare to fuck us up again, ever.”

After taking a deep breath, Jason raised his head and stared at something outside the lawns of the Manor. “The Batman has apprehended the Scarecrow two nights after the fight at the Narrows. No one got killed, the GCPD was there to take care of things, no one is any wiser, and, my goodness, I didn't really wanna know but damn, you must be really packing meat cause I got the worst chafing from that ginormous codpiece.”

An awkward silence descended over them once again. Eventually, Bruce cleared his throat. “You need to get enrolled before summer starts.” His son looked over his shoulder. “Huh?” Underneath a week's scruff, Wayne's lips curled. “English literature. Choose a college.” For a moment, the boy threw him a look that seemed to say 'No way', but after a few moments, Jason's mouth twisted into a warped smirk.

“Fair warning – it's gotta take some time to find out which campus is the least shittiest.”

 


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a higher rating in the first part of this chapter

The alarm clock on his side of the bed read 8:46 pm when Bruce sunk down on the edge of the mattress. Tired beyond belief after his first real shower and shaving session, the Gothamite gripped the sheets tight as he gathered his bearings. A soft knock on his door made him raise his head and force a steadfast expression on his face. “Come in.” As expected, it was his husband who slipped into the room.

Tony was dressed in sweatpants and t-shirt, wearing a pair of readings glasses and some plush black-yellow sports team slippers with the Gotham Rogues logo on his bare feet. Seeing the slight slouch in Bruce's posture, Tony stopped in front of him and ran tentative palms over his bare shoulders. “Biggest endeavor of the day, hm?” Wayne did an experimental flex of his biceps, only to pull a face at the result.

“The biggest challenge is yet to come. Getting back in shape.” Tony watched the muscles bulge under his skin and curled his lips. “Doesn't look like that to me at all, but whatever. You're still not cleared for any strenuous workouts, let alone rooftop shenanigans.” Much to his surprise, Bruce did not start a discussion about the ridiculous notion of being grounded. Instead, he ran a hand through his damp hair.

“I have missed out on the latest developments regarding the Gotham Gazette.” His voice was cautious. Tony sat down by his side and took off his glasses to slip them onto the nightstand. “A brief flicker in a sea of floating gossip headlines. The next day it was 'Lex Luthor's Threesome Gone Wrong'. With three exclamation marks. That seemed a lot more scandalous, I guess.” Both of them grimaced at the mental picture.

While the Gothamite kept on staring at the carpet, his husband kicked off his slippers. “Are you really okay with us sharing the bed? If you feel like it's too early, I can take up the guest room again.” Wayne's eyes flew up. “No. I want us to.” Their eyes met. Bruce frowned at the hesitation on Tony's features. “Only if you want to as well, of course.” It sounded like a question. His husband heaved a huge sigh.

“I might be disturbing your sleep, what's with all my tossing and turning lately.”  
  
“Nightmares?”

Bruce's low question was met with a shrug that spoke of embarrassment. “I am thinking about medication, BB. The anxiety has come back ever since...” Tony blew out his cheeks. “I know it was the whole Jason thing that brought it to the surface, but now it's flaring up too often for my liking.” Bruce was silent, his brows furrowed. Tony regarded his profile and swallowed around the lump that had built in his throat.

“I'd rather consider therapy, to be honest, which is something even the boys should have access to, I mean, only if they want to. But finding a good therapist might take a while, and I don't know how effective talking about stuff would be with those huge parts of our lives that have to stay secret, so... yeah, undecided yet.” Lost in thought, Tony startled when a hand appeared on his thigh. Looking up, Bruce's eyes were intense.

“I want you to do whatever you feel is right for you. You'll have my support any which way.”  
  
A disheartened smile. “Except in getting you off the street permanently.” Before the billionaire could speak up, Tony raised a hand. “I know, I know. I could never ask this of you, BB, because this is who you are, and part of me understands. But even worse is that I've seen how the past week has affected our sons. Even though they don't openly address it, they worry. A lot, if those group chat convos were anything to go by.”

Though Wayne's face radiated refusal, he said something else. “I am sorry you had to suffer through this.” Tony shook his head and reached out to take his hand. “The worst thing was the way we parted ways. Not knowing if I'd ever be able to tell you-” Voice unsteady, he squeezed the fingers interwoven with his. "Tell you that it's just been my stupid past getting the best of me and..." His voice took on a thoroughly pained notion.

With a gentle move, Bruce freed his hand to cup his cheek. “If there's one thing you can be sure of-” His fingers took Tony's chin and gently lifted it up so they were forced to look at each other. “It's that I love you unconditionally and without hesitation - when we are together and when we are apart. Like I promised on the day of our wedding.” Hearing Bruce recite part of his marriage vows made Tony tear up.  
  
"Forgive me. Forgive me for doubting the love of my life.”

Their kiss was soft at first and turned heated in no time. When Bruce tried to divest him of his shirt, Tony saw the tremors going through his hands. He, therefore, detached from their embrace and got to his knees in front of the bed. “You are going to lean back and relax now, kay?” Tony's breath ghosted over the bare skin he exposed as he peeled down Bruce's boxer shorts. “Let me make you feel good. Just a bit.”

At the first tender contact of Tony's mouth on his shaft, Bruce's legs twitched. “Can't l-last long, I...” His voice was labored. Tony's hands ran up to caress his heaving rib cage. “Don't have to. Just relax. I got you, my love, I got you and I'll never, ever let you go again.” When his mouth sealed over Bruce's erection, the latter dropped his head back with a moan so broken and genuine, Tony's eyes started to water behind closed lids.

It did indeed not take long for Wayne to writhe and squirm under the skillful oral ministrations. Once he felt him go limp inside his mouth, Tony put his head on one of Bruce's still trembling thighs and kept on nuzzling into the tender skin. “Love you. Love you so...” At that, he felt his husband's long fingers carding through his hair. 

+  
  
Alfred Pennyworth could not remember the last time the dining room had been filled with all family members. What started out as a lazy Sunday morning breakfast had quickly turned into a lazy brunch that went well into 2 pm. Overall chatter and laughter filled the air as future vacation plans were thrown into the round, discussed, and dismissed. Damian sulked for a good ten minutes when his suggestion was flat-out refused.

“Who in their right mind would ever go to Transylvania?”

Upon Tim's objection, Damian snarled at him over his plate full of waffles."You are an ignorant fool! Transylvania is a very rich and unique country." Richard poked his fork at the stack and snatched a waffle powdered with sugar from him. "You only want to go see Dracula's castle, admit it you little vampire." Tony waited until the quarrel had died down and Richard mollified his little brother by sharing a couple of blueberries with him.

“How about we let Jarvis make a list of all places with the pros and cons?”  
At that, Jason brandished his cup of coffee about.  
“Seriously, Tony, this AI of yours is high-key eccentric.”

“Just like its creator.”  
At Bruce's quiet remark, Jason grinned and toasted him with his mug.  
“Word, B-Man.”

Tony tutted around his mouthful of fruit salad and cast them both a what he figured was a dark glare. “Traitors, traitors everywhere. Fine, see about browsing the web like peasants, for all I care.” A warm hand with long fingers wormed its way on his thigh under the table. “Fiji islands. There is a promise that needs to be fulfilled.” Bruce gave a squeeze just as Tony's eyes and mouth widened in shocked realization.

Unbeknownst to their quiet little moment, Tim propped his cheek upon a fist and griped along. “Why are the summer holidays still so far away? I wanna go now.” Tony tore his eyes off his still fatigued-looking husband to nudge his son's shoulder. “You guys gotta fill your brains with important stuff first before we can spend the days jet skiing and tanning.” Richard's deeper-grown voice rose once more over the overall ruckus.

“Are you bringing your Iron Man suit along?”  
Tony made a tilting motion with his head, pondering his question.  
“No.”

Bruce Wayne's one-syllable-decision sounded finite. His husband hummed along in consent. “The saltwater isn't good for him, your dad's right. Besides, this will be a normal family vacation.” Richard pushed his now empty plate away and clicked his tongue. “Nothing's ever normal in this family, Tony, sorry to break it to you.” At his taunting, his former nanny picked up a small piece of breadcrumb and flicked it into his direction.

“Hear, hear! Lord Richard Richieson the First has graced us with a piece of infinite wisdom.”

Jason put a curled-up fist in front of his mouth and imitated some crooked fanfare sounds. It made Tim join in with a rhythmic drum sound with his spoon and fork against the table and Damian to start murmuring along. Jason dropped his hand and cast their youngest a quizzing glance. “Is he reciting some Poltergeist shit?” Without thinking, Tony clasped a palm over his son's mouth in one swift motion.

“Dami, dearest, you're not trying to summon the devil again, are you?” A frown of green eyes, followed by a shake of the head and a muffled “Nu-uh”. Tony nodded, conciliated, released him and looked into the round. “I've read him the Battle of Jericho as a bedtime story. Ever since then he's obsessed with trumpets. My bad.” Glimpsing from a quiet but amused-looking Bruce over to their sons, Tony then waved a hand about.

"Before all of you go scattering in the wind again for time being, we need to have a final, memorable family event.” Tim's fork, still degraded into a makeshift drumstick, rose in the air. “Monopoly.” Damian pulled a face. “No, you freaking cheater.” They glared at each other with furrowed brows. “You can't cheat at Monopoly, you idiot.”

“Riiight, you can only steal money from the bank when you think no one's watching you, _cheater!”_

“Are you accusing me of being a thief?”

“Boys, boys, boys. Really now.”  
Tony's voice was both placatory and mischievous.  
“I only see one way to solve this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's slippers are inspired by these here:  
> https://www.bunnyslippers.com/shop/Sports-Team-Slippers-NFL-Slippers.html


	89. Chapter 89

Five pairs of eyes followed him over through the ancient, wide-open folding doors into the adjacent living room. With a click of the remote, the big television screen came to life. Holding up a certain video game, Tony looked into the expectant round of faces and gave a knowing nod and grin at Richard, Tim, and Damian. It took them less than three seconds before all of them jumped to their feet and shouted in unison.

“ADULT BATTLE!”

From where Tony had gone and fetched two remote controls, he tapped one of them against his bottom lip, looking all pensive. “Yes, but no. I know something even better, guys – let's hear it for... An adult team up!” At that, he pointed one remote at Jason, who had gone over to put his feet up on Tony's vacant chair, and one at a non-involved-looking Bruce who was browsing through the newspaper. “Tag, you're it.”

Jason was quick enough to snatch the remote flying his way. The billionaire, however, only glimpsed at the second remote when it flew past him.  
“No.”  
His eldest son grinned and cracked his knuckles over his head, moving into a full-body stretch.  
  
“C'mon you cranky man, dust off your tap dance shoes. For old time's sake. Before I'm drowning in books.”

Tony and the boys actually gasped out when Bruce Wayne indeed rose from his seat ten seconds later and pushed up the sleeves of his black Henley. “The mighty dragon has awoken.” Giggles accompanied Tony's awed whisper. His husband gave him the stink-eye and grabbed the forlorn remote from where it had landed in a wing chair in the corner. “Which song?” At that, Tony's smile became dangerously endearing.  
  
“Just the perfect one for the two of you.”

As it turned out, their 'Dynamite' performance was a mixture between epic and downright hilarious. Caught in a four-player-mode with two female characters that were computer-controlled, Bruce and Jason put up a good show and managed to get five stars each, with Jason beating his father by only a few points in the end.

Once the show was over after a little more than three minutes, Bruce allowed his husband to steal a kiss from his slightly breathless lips, nodded at the murmured question if he was okay, and pushed the remote into Tony's chest. Wayne then took a seat on the couch, and Jason leaned in close from behind, arms crossed over the backrest. “We demand something equally humiliating from you in return, don't we, B-Dad?”  
  
His cheeky words were met with a dark smirk and nod. “From all of you.” Tony pushed out his chest and struck a superhero pose. “Sure. We'll just dance you into submission, no prob.” He looked over his shoulder. “Batboys, get in line. What song shall we dance to?” Before Tim was able to make a suggestion, Jason snatched the game box from his hands. “Ah, ah, ah, nope. Beggars can't be choosers, Timmy.”

To the very vocal protest of his brother, Todd went over to his father and pointed at several items until Wayne Sr. gave a conspirative nod. Bruce then put an arm out over the backrest and an ankle over his knee. Jason put the game into the required settings, leaving his brothers and Tony curious until the final screen and the refrain popped up. “The Macarena?” While Richard and Tim groaned out loud, Damian crossed his arms.  
  
“I don't dance like a girl.”  
At that, Jason grabbed the front of his shirt with a wolfish grin and pulled him close until they were nose to nose.  
“Dance, you little ghoul.”

And so Tony, Tim, Richard, and Damian got in line and began to move according to the motions from the girly team on screen.

After the first chorus was a massive choreographic disaster, the four of them slowly began to improve. At Tony's lasciviously swinging hips, Jason, who had gone back to loitering over the couch's backrest, bent down with a shit-eating grin and spoke loud enough for his father and Tony to hear. “Damn, Bruce, if you hadn't put a ring on that, I'd totally be macking dat ass.” In deadly slow motion, Wayne Sr. turned his head towards him.  
  
“Say that again.”  
Hands held up, Jason backed away from the couch, though not with a very obvious wink into Tony's direction.  
“Work it, Daddy Stark.”  
  
It earned him a blown kiss from Tony and an even more sinister glare from Bruce. In between roaring laughter, Tony almost did not feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. As soon as the dance was over, he was quick to skim across the information Jarvis had put together for him in a single info text. “BB?” Bruce looked at him and his tense expression. “A word, briefly?” Tony motioned towards the dining hall with his head.

His seriousness made the billionaire get up and follow him over into the adjacent room.

“Rhodey's squad got under attack in Afghanistan. He's been reported missing as of this afternoon.”

Tony inhaled with a shudder and rubbed his face. “I gotta go find him.” Bruce squared his shoulders. “Let me help.” His husband threw him a grim look paired with a tut. “Not a caped crusader kind of thing.” The Gothamite shook his head. “I meant something else. Wayne Yards holds a few aircraft carriers in the Indian Ocean. They can be deployed.” Their eyes darted within each other for a while. Tony then took his hand.

“While I appreciate that, I still want to go myself. I have to.”  
At the fierce determination in his voice, Bruce looked down at their entwined fingers. Eventually, he nodded.  
“I understand.”

+

Less than an hour later, the whole Wayne clan was gathered down in the cave to see Tony off.

As soon as he had suited up, Damian latched onto him and clung to an iron leg. It left Tony no choice but to hunker down to one knee and talk to him. Their voices were hushed, but Damian kept on shaking his head during Tony's speech and scowled with all his might. Alfred cast Bruce a gauging look, but the billionaire stood in the background, face unreadable, and watched his youngest argue back and forth. 

At some point, Tony extended a metal-clad pinkie and held it up at Damian's face until the boy relented with a stubborn nod. He took the pinkie promise, only to turn around to storm away into the elevator immediately after. With a small, dignified nod at both Tony and Bruce, Alfred Pennyworth went after him. Arms crossed, it was Jason who then stepped forward and spoke out what his two remaining brothers were thinking.

“This is shit, man – who's gonna have your back when the A-29s are lining up to blow you out of the sky?”

Tony, faceplate still up, cast him a winsome, confident grin. “Gotta answer the call, Jaybird. At least I'm wearing this neat-o, indestructible armor.” He initiated one of the suit's wrist-mounted anti-tank missiles for show-off measures. “So you see, there's no need to worry. Just take care of our little Demon for me will ya.” With that, he held up a gauntleted fist and Jason bumped it with a nod. “Watch those hostile birds, Iron Dad.”

Jason waited until Richard and Tim had each hugged Tony tight before the three of them walked over to the elevator to leave the two of them time to say goodbye in private. As they waited for the metal doors to close, they saw their father step up close to the iron suit. A brief but fervent conversation seemed to take place before Bruce Wayne put his hands on the chest plate and got up on his toes to kiss his armored 6'6 husband.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dynamite by Taio Cruz for Bruce & Jason:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iP-ZYzvsaDg  
> (Bruce on the far left, Jason on the far right)
> 
> ... because after discovering this great art:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/harseik/art/The-Justdance-League-207117706  
> I just felt inspired to let Bruce have a go at Just Dance one more time! 
> 
> This one's for the boys & Tony: The Macarena by Los del Río:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLD5_B-miSU  
> (from left to right: Tony, Tim, Richard, Damian)
> 
> Info on Wayne Yards  
> http://batman.wikia.com/wiki/Wayne_Enterprises
> 
> A-29s = turboprop light attack aircraft purchased for the Afghan Air Force  
> source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Embraer_EMB_314_Super_Tucano#Afghanistan


	90. Chapter 90

“Any news, Sir?”

Bruce sat in the dark of his cave, for once not dressed in Batgear but in regular clothes. Elbow propped up on the armrest, his chin rested on a tight fist while his eyes darted between four different screens. They each displayed airspace graphics, weather conditions, an international news channel, and a global military ship tracking system. He did not bother to take his eyes off of the supercomputer.

“Not yet.”

The butler put a large stainless steel Thermos next to the console and watched Wayne press a few key combinations, only to get a 'service momentarily unavailable' notification. The corners of Bruce's mouth turned south. “I am unable to establish a connection to Jarvis. Either the transmission is jammed or the suit's energy reserves must already be too depleted.” His voice, while factual, held a tinge of concern.

Pennyworth put a hand on the back of his chair and closely inspected the many screens himself before looking down at his protege. “Master Damian has refused to eat again. He also expressed his, allow me to say, quite vivid disdain at going back to Phillips Andover for as long as Master Anthony has not returned home safely.” With a crisp move, Bruce reached out to unscrew the Thermos bottle.

The aromatic smell of coffee filled the air as he took the first sip and drummed restless fingers around the cup. “Leave him be. Richard and Tim seem equally disposed.” Alfred put his hands behind his back with a reproving tilt of the head. “Can you really blame them after the incidents of the past weeks, Master Bruce?” Wayne was about to answer but paused. “Where is Jason? He hasn't come down here with them every hour.”

Wariness had crept into his voice, and Pennyworth was quick to catch his train of thought. “Master Jason has retreated to the gym.” The billionaire took another sip and adjusted the toggle of the naval tracking system. “He should keep on getting ready for college.” It earned him a scolding if still fatherly look from the side. “No one is able to focus on everyday life aspects at present, Sir. Including you.”

Bruce put the cup aside and went back to typing a fast series of commands. “I am thinking of ways to minimize risks for Tony and me long-term, but it's not something to decide on a whim.” Pennyworth shook his head. “Wanting to see your sons growing up is nothing to decide a whim, either, Sir, if you don't mind me saying so. Putting your lives on the line for a noble but often unappreciated idealism is, however.”

Hazel eyes narrowed at the bluish-colored screens.  
“I _am_ working on it, Alfred.”  
It sounded brusque and finite, so his butler and close confidant simply inclined his head and left him to his brooding.

+

Getting back in the suit to head overseas had been a disconcerting experience.

Part of him felt like he was reviving the avenging mission for Jason back in the days, resulting in a panic attack halfway across the ocean. With his heart up in his chest and the sweat running down his temples, Tony tried to stay focused in the present. A couple of times, he was quite close to calling Bruce but fought the urge down to not worry his family and respectively his husband any more than necessary.

He managed to calm down enough for his AI to ease up on the autopilot systems once they had activated stealth mode and crossed the Afghan border. Jarvis supplied him with a rough sketch of the terrain. “The air temperatures are hovering in the 105° range, with a relative humidity of less than five percent. My sensors detect strewn materials which correspond to a destroyed aircraft wreck of the type F-15E Strike Eagle.”

Tony swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Any sign of human lifeforms?” Jarvis paused. “A body inside the wreckage, Sir. I receive no vital signs. The ejection progress must have been initiated too late. Its genetic code does not match that of Lieutenant-Colonel Rhodes.” Tony briefly closed his eyes behind the faceplate. “His co-pilot.” He reopened his eyes, blinking back the overwhelming feeling of sorrow and anxiety.

“Relay the exact coordinates to the nearest US base. Don't let them track back the source.”

“Done, Sir.”  
A deep breath.  
“Now we just have to find Rhodey.”

In the air-conditioned suit, Tony was able to withstand most of the desert's heat that flared up throughout the daytime. He whooshed past endless dunes of nothing but sand and the occasional rocks for hours, inwardly fearing another sunset and the dramatic drop of temperatures that always came along with it and which would spell doom for his best friend and his likely deteriorating health state.

He kept one channel open to listen in on military intel and any news on the other missing airmen. Apparently, the rest of Rhodes' squadron had made it back to base more or less unharmed. While Tony was glad for them, his worry for his friend grew by the minute. After almost 48 hours of nonstop scanning and searching, Jarvis' scanners finally picked up on a singular commotion just south of Kandahar.

The man was staggering on, wrapped pieces of fabric around his head to protect it from the glare of the sun. His overall was in tatters, lacking sleeves and one of the pants' legs from the knee downward. Rhodes all but recoiled upon seeing the strange humanoid creation landing a couple of feet in front of him. His first instinct was to back off, but his tired legs did not cooperate and forced him to land flat on his back.

Concerned, the Iron Man armor walked into his direction with circumspect steps. “Hey, hey, hey – platypus, it's me. Easy, hey. I got you. Got you. You're safe with me.” The Lieutenant-Colonel's face was smeared with blood and sweat, and he gathered a shaky fistful of sand to throw into Tony's direction. “Nn-no.” Tony let the faceplate come up and watched how his friend's horrified stare remained the same.

“I'm hallucinating. I see Tony in a metal bodysuit. 's not real.”

At the delirious murmurs, a gauntleted hand stretched out into his direction, offering but not forcing contact. “It _is_ me. I'm here, Rhodey. I'm here to bring you home.” Once more, Tony knelt in the sand, with minor difficulty at the soft surface, and reached for a slim compartment attached at the suit's thigh. A small flask appeared, and Tony held it in his direction. “Please take a few sips. it's not much, but it'll help."  
  
When he sensed no more resistance, Tony pressed the flask against his friend's chapped lips and tilted it up. Fluid trickled down Rhodes' chin, but eventually, some of it landed in his mouth. James' eyelids were encrusted with sand, but when he blinked a few times against the brightness and the dust, his eyes began to water. “Tones-” It was a whisper. “You're... here-” The rest of his sentence was lost to him losing consciousness.

With a choked up nod, Tony stowed away the empty flask. "And now I'm gonna get us out of here fast.” He moved to cradle him in his arms as he rose back to his feet and slammed the helmet shut. “Jarvis, vital scan." 

"Lieutenant-Colonel Rhodes' blood pressure is at 70/50 with a body temperature of 104°. Immediate re-hydration and medical attendance are required.” Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek. “How far to the nearest military base?”

“Bagram Air Base is over 600 miles further north. However, I received notice of the USS Thomas II, a Wayne Yards nuclear-powered aircraft carrier entering the Gulf of Oman and heading for the Pakistan border.” Tony frowned behind his helmet. “Okay?” He inspected the details on the ship Jarvis drew up for him on the HUD. “It appears you have gotten clearance from its highest ranking officer to come aboard, Sir.”

Tony looked down at the battered body of his friend in his arms.

“Let's head for it. Fastest route possible. One that doesn't put any strain on Rhodey.”

+

The USS Thomas II was a huge carrier with the length of almost 1,000 feet, imposing rocket launcher turrets, and a crew of 2500 people. Iron Man touched down on a pad meant for helicopters and was glad for a medical crew that already stood waiting on standby on the sidelines. He eased Rhodey from his back and onto a gurney. He was still out cold, and Tony wished to be able to dismantle and stay by his side.

Just as he was about to take off again, determined to use Mach 2 to head home and charter a private jet to fly back out, he was stopped by two landing signalmen. “Stand by, the airspace isn't cleared.” Iron Man put his arms akimbo, making for a rather comedic posture. “Meaning what?” The taller one of them took the time to answer him. “One of the big shots is coming in any second.” Behind his HUD, Tony started to frown.

“Big shots?”

His sensors then picked up the trademark whipping noise of approaching rotor blades. “Yeah, rich dude who owns most of the naval warships in this area, including this one. I have to ask you to stand back and clear the landing zone now, Sir.” The LSE motioned for him to stand back, though not without giving him another curious once-over. Tony cast his gaze out at the glinting sundown and the vast surface of the ocean.

A sleek Seahawk helicopter could be seen approaching the carrier, waiting for clearance as a fighter jet got pulled across the flight deck. Iron Man stepped back and watched the chopper being signaled into landing. A small crowd of decorated officers had gathered around, shooting his suit countless peculiar glances. Hidden from view, Tony's eyebrows arched as he saw none other than Bruce Wayne step out of the chopper.

He was wearing a leather jacket with Shearling lining, dark denims, boots, a pair of aviator sunglasses, and an air of authority. Scruff was on his cheeks and chin, and his hair was whipping into his face. Wayne headed for the highest-ranked officer on deck, pulling off a leather glove to extend his hand with a smile. “Captain Kane, thank you for your short-term support. I hope we're not interrupting an important maneuver.”

The silver-haired man with the sun-tanned face shook his hand. “Mister Wayne, welcome on board. We're glad to be of service.” Both men looked over to where the armored suit stood waiting. Bruce's mirrored shades flashed in the sunlight. “I'd appreciate if this secret project of Wayne Aerospace would remain just that. A secret.” The Captain nodded, prompting Bruce to give him another charming billionaire smile.

“Is there any area for my pilot to dismantle in private? Due to the confidentiality of the project, we have to ensure complete anonymity.”

Captain Robert Kane inclined his head and told him which cabin to use. Bruce thus signaled for two staff members who stood waiting next to a big box labeled 'WAYNE AERO'. “Please take it along and pick it up later.” Just for the sake of it, Tony straightened up to his full armored height and came to stand at attention as Bruce walked into his direction. Fighting hard not to burst out laughing, Tony then drew up a crisp salute.

The billionaire's eyes were still hidden behind his shades but his lips twitched, once. “At ease, soldier. Follow me.” Heavy metal boots clanked on equally heavy metal floors as Bruce steered him into the aforementioned cabin. As soon as the door was locked behind them, Tony's faceplate came up with a whoosh. “I think I've just developed a roleplay kink I didn't know I...” The rest of his words drowned in his husband's crushing mouth.

“... mmpfhh. Seems I'm not the only one, eh?”

“Are you alright?” Bruce's voice sounded gruff as he broke the kiss, but he stayed close enough to murmur into Tony's mouth. The way his thumbs traced what little of his husband's face they could reach, however, was nothing but tender. “You were gone 52 hours without proper nutrition and are most likely dehydrated and exhausted.” As if to prove a point, he drew back and put a cool palm on Tony's sweated forehead.

“We should let you get checked through by a medic as well.”

Tony shook his head.

“No need, just get me some grub and lots of cold drinks. I'll take a quick shower and then I want to visit Rhodey." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LSE = Landing Signal Enlisted
> 
> Bruce's look inspired by this  
> https://www.thefashionisto.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/Belstaff-2017-Fall-Winter-Mens-Collection-Lookbook-001.jpg


	91. Chapter 91

Once Tony was clean and dressed in a nondescript US Navy coverall with matching baseball hat, he guzzled down two bottles of an isotonic drink and inhaled a couple of protein bars before he followed Bruce to sickbay. Wayne had already spoken to the doctors and learned that Rhodes was awake and his condition stable. He had three fractured ribs, a mild concussion and heat stroke, as well as a sprained ankle.

The doctors had told him to get enough rest and fluids until they were able to give him a proper checkup at the next local Air Force base. Once the remaining nurse had left the room, Rhodes stared down at the IV in the back of his hand. “Callahan didn't make it.” His voice was low and full of self-loathing. “There was nothing you could've done, Rhodey. It was a technical failure. It might just as easily have been you.”

Tony's voice and face took on a pained notion as he stepped closer to put a hand on his friend's shoulder. “And while I feel for the guy's family, I am selfish enough to be glad you're still here with us.” Not knowing what else to say, he glimpsed over to where Bruce had made himself inconspicuous. Their eyes met and the Gothamite gave a barely-there nod. Movement under his palm made Tony focus back on Rhodey.

James' eyes darted all over him. “So, how and where did you get this thing?” It was clear what he meant. Tony slipped one hip upon his mattress with a smug expression. “Built it.” His friend's eyes went wide. “You... I don't believe this.” Stark's grin turned crooked. “The feeling of flying without a plane – Rhodey, I tell you. Da bomb.” Rhodes shuffled until he sat up straighter. “Listen, if you built a couple of these for the military...”

At that, the sound of a throat being cleared interrupted them. Both looked over to where Bruce Wayne leaned against an empty bunk, ankles crossed and arms folded in front of his chest. His facial expression, while holding a sparse smile, spoke of veiled disdain. “It goes without saying that Tony is capable of outstanding and ground-breaking inventions. However, going public or into serial production is not an option we consider.”

Both Tony and Rhodey looked baffled at Wayne's assertive voice. Rhodey looked at his quiet friend for confirmation and found Tony giving him a sincere nod. “Yeah, uh, he's right I guess. It's better that way, platypus, believe me.” James sighed. “Okay, so no army of robots then, I do see the point, but people should know what's possible.” He gave a light slap to Tony's midriff. “Think about it, Tones. You'd be a national hero, man.”

That was when Bruce's sparse smile turned almost dangerous. “I might not share the same expertise or fondness for technological warfare like you do, Colonel Rhodes, but there is one thing I am very adamant about, which is my husband's overall, general safety. In fact, that is one of my major concerns. I do not want to expose his secret identity to the US Air Force or any other governmental institution.”

Tony chuckled, trying to divert the suddenly tense atmosphere in the room. “Besides, I know a couple of boys who might laugh their asses off if I'd ever try to sell myself as a hero. They've seen me run around in boxers and a robe, step barefooted on their damned Lego bricks and dance the Macarena. I tell you, platypus - I got nothing.” Rhodes glimpsed from him to a tense Bruce Wayne and back. Tony shrugged with a lopsided smirk.

“Okay, I get it. Shame, though.”  
At that, the hard edge left Bruce's smile and voice.  
“Thank you, James. I'm glad you are back safe and sound. Rest some more, a Chinook will pick you up within the next hour.”

+

Outside, Tony's steps fell into lockstep with his husband. “Damn, that was hot.” Bruce looked at him. “Hm?” Tony licked dry lips. “You, all commanding and protective of me. I've been quite horny from the moment I saw you step out of that chopper, but now I'm sufficiently wooed and aroused.” Mild exasperation shone back at him. “We need to get back on the helicopter. I don't want to overstay our welcome.”

“'kay.”

With his facial features hidden underneath a black helmet with its visor down, Tony slipped in next to Bruce on the backseat of the Seahawk, his suit safely stowed in the back. He only dared to take the helmet off when they were airborne and the carrier out of sight. “We should start thinking about ARC-powered carriers.” His voice was sleepy. Mindful of their pilot, Bruce took his hand and raised it to his lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I can literally hear the gears turn inside your head.”  
Tony snuggled into his side and interlaced their fingers.  
“Mhm. Environmental-friendly. Great stuff. Can al-ready... see... it... USS Anthony...”

The billionaire smiled as Tony drifted off in the crook of his arm, shifting with care to not wake him.

+

Back at home, Tony spun the tale of Iron Man's heroic desert strike and Bruce Wayne's epic corporate overlord ways of playing Battleship with his armada of naval carriers with a snap of his fingers. It prompted Tim to declare an interest in joining the Navy, and Bruce to chew his husband out for giving their son crazy ideas. “Why not? Timmy'd make a dashing Admiral. Mind you, he probably couldn't bring his drums on board, but...”

From where Tony was nestled under the sheets, bare as anything, and fully sated after a long session of lovemaking, eating in bed, and sleeping within the solid embrace of his husband for a good seven hours, he propped his head up and began to whistle the familiar tunes of 'In The Navy'.

Bruce, wearing only a towel around the waist after his previous shower and shaving routine, paused mid-stride to throw him one of his best affectionate but at the same time displeased glares. “Before I start listing all the reasons for why that will never work, can we please get back to the topic at hand.” Tony's eyes followed his every move as he walked over to get fresh underwear out of the drawer.

At the sight of a firm and muscled pair of buttocks when the towel came off, Tony's whistle turned seductive. “Meaning the hoity-toity party you told me we're hosting on Saturday?” Wayne's pinched lips told him to rethink his wording. “The gala fundraiser for the city's new District Attorney, yes." With that, Bruce tugged up the black boxer briefs and reached into another drawer for a pair of socks.

"If Wayne Enterprises could initiate an official, long-term collaboration, we can work on making the city safer by giving the GCPD better equipment and more influence to fight and prevent crime.” He came back to sit upon the edge of the mattress, unfolding the socks in the process. “What ulterior motive is going on in that handsome head of yours, BB?” Tony watched him hesitate before Bruce started to slip them on.

“Once the Batman is giving up most of his jurisdiction, there has to be an appropriate task force in his wake.”

That made Tony sit up straight, letting the blankets pool in his lap. “Are you... serious?” Sitting hunched over, Bruce did not meet his gaze. “Provided the DA enjoys the festivities: Yes.” Dark eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “No, I mean... would you give up – everything... just like that?” When the Gothamite did not answer right away, Tony shuffled over and put his chin on a bare shoulder. “For us? The boys, Al, me?”

Bruce turned his head so that they were almost nose to nose. “It won't be from one day to the other, and,” His eyes turned soft at the salt and pepper stubble on Tony's chin. “On one condition: You have to understand it's not going to involve just me.” At the exact moment when realization set in all over Tony's features, Wayne leaned in until their noses touched. “It will be worth it in the long run. For our family.”

Their kiss was warm and tender. Tony almost even succeeded in straddling his husband's lap and getting him back into the cozy haven of their bed when Bruce's mobile made a sound indicating several emails in a row. With an armful of a clingy naked Tony on his right, Bruce's left hand reached for his phone and opened his inbox. “Commissioner Gordon. He is going to attend on Saturday as well. I need to speak with Alfred.”

Upon seeing him sidetracked and immune to any seductive efforts, Tony admitted defeat with an audible exhale of breath. He dropped back onto his side of the bed with a yawn and went into a languid stretch. “The boys are also gonna be here the weekend, but you can bet they don't wanna play 'pet the monkey'.” Slipping the device back onto his nightstand, Bruce got up and resumed his task of getting dressed and ready.

“For the better. The DA has only been in town for two weeks, and we need to make a good impression. Commissioner Gordon said he is a very rigorous and demanding man.” Tony's sigh followed Bruce over into the dressing room. “It's gonna be one of those parties again, isn't it?” No answer. Tony sighed again, louder this time. “Any chance I can weasel out of it as well?”  
  
Once Bruce returned in a crisp business suit, every single hair styled into its place, his expression was alarmingly demonic. “No.” Wayne then bent down to peck his husband's lips in farewell one more time, taking his phone along. “I'll see you later.” All pensive, Tony watched him leave. “Could Iron Man go in my place? As your metal bodyguard maybe? If I'm down a superhero job in the foreseeable future, I need a new challenge.”

Bruce's steps faded on carpeted floors.

“Bye, Tony.”

 


	92. Chapter 92

An urgent knock on Richard's door made him look up from where he was lounging on his bed, listening to music and texting on his phone.

“Yeah?”

The face of his older brother peeked around the door before Jason slipped inside. “Do you have a portable heater?” Richard scrunched up his face, lowered his phone and unplugged his earphones. “Do I have a - what?” Moments later, Damian and Tim burst into his room as well, the latter carrying an armful of blankets. “We couldn't find a heater, but maybe this will do!” He dumped them next to Richard onto the mattress.

Richard put his phone away on the nightstand and sat up. “What the hell is going on?” When Damian leaned forward and emptied his arms, a batch of vegetables dropped onto the bed. “Jason has done something bad and now he is going to rope us into it.” Todd threw his youngest brother a rotten look, about to set him straight when something underneath his sweater moved. Richard stared, as did Tim and Damian.

“That's like in that Alien movie.”

Richard cast Damian a peculiar look. “How would you know? You're too young to watch Alien.” Damian rolled his eyes. “Oh, shush it, you peasant.” More wiggling erupted, and Jason had no choice but to roll up his sweater and reveal a small, black piglet. A round of awed noises erupted. “Can I pet it?” Tim's hand already reached out towards the shivering little head. “Yeah, but don't make any sudden movements.”

They watched the piggy take a curious, careful sniffle at Tim's fingers. Richard glimpsed at Jason as he sat down and freed the animal from its confines. “What's its name?” With a stern expression, he also took away the carrot Damian had grabbed to poke at the pig. “He's called Mister Oinkers.” Jason kept his eyes and both hands around the shivering little torso of the piglet, holding it steady and in place.

The youngest Wayne scowled back at Richard but inspected with astute eyes how his brother held the vegetable out at a reasonable distance. After a moment, the piglet's snout moved and began to nibble at the carrot. “Where did you get him?” Watching with a bit of dismay at the orange flakes dropping down on his blanket, Richard passed the carrot over to Damian. Jason put the corner of a blanket around the pig's body.

“He's one of the mascots from college. They always put this poor devil into a small cage over the weekends, so I brought him along. Get him to sniff rich man's air.” Richard shot him a pointed look. “You kidnapped the pig.” Tim giggled. “Pignapped.” It earned him an eye roll from Damian. Richard eyed Jason again. “If he poops in the house, then what?” Jason only shrugged. “Dad mustn't know.” Tim's voice held a conspirative tone.

Richard regarded the animal with something between fascination and slight repulsion. “Well, good luck hiding pig crap, guys. I'm not cleaning that up.” Jason glanced around with a lopsided sneer. “Figures, you're not even cleaning your room when you're here.” To Tim's snorting laugh, Richard extended a leg and delivered a kick to Tim's backside. “Shut up, Timmy.”

At the sudden movement, the pig in Jason's arms squealed in terror and wiggled free from its confines. Jason did try to make a grasp for it but was too slow. All of the Wayne boys then watched on, horrified, as the piggy pushed the ajar door open and disappeared on the corridor. Four pairs of eyes locked. Jason curled his lips.

“Well, fuck.”

+

An elegant mass of men and women crowded the grand ballroom of the Manor, all of them dressed in fancy attire and wearing lots of jewelry. Next to the wet bar was a table arrayed with burgundy satin cloths that featured a huge ice sculpture. A champagne glass tower and a massive four-tier cake completed the wet bar. To soft, slow classical music from a small orchestra in the corner, Tony and Bruce made the obligatory host rounds.

After greeting their guests and making polite, superficial small talk, they approached newly-appointed District Attorney Harvey Dent who had just arrived, looking something between pleased about all the attention on his behalf and bored by the same all at once. He was about Bruce's height, with sandy blonde hair, a broad built, and a dimpled chin which seemed to fascinate most of the female attendees of the night.

“Mister Dent, what a pleasure.” Bruce was all smiles as he moved to greet his honorary guest. “Allow me to introduce my husband Anthony.” With a firm grip, Dent shook Tony's hand. “Mister Wayne, Mister Stark-Wayne. Thanks for the invitation. You do seem to know your way around parties.” Resisting the need to shake out his squished fingers, Tony gave a lopsided smirk and rocked a little back and forth on his feet.

“You ain't seen nothing yet then. You should come by on Thanksgiving. That's always a real riot 'round here, I tell you. A real riot.”

Dent's gaze spoke of confusion, just as an obnoxiously loud, fake laugh escaped Bruce's lips. “Isn't that true, Anthony. Oh, look, there are the Claytons, we have not had the time to say hello. Enjoy the evening, Mister Dent.” Simpering along, Bruce obtained an invisible but firm grip on his husband's elbow and steered him away. Nevertheless, Tony managed to snatch a glass of orange juice from a passing waiter.

“This is even worse than a lobotomy.”

Tony's pained whine made Bruce release him with a stern glimpse. “Hush now, this fundraiser really is important.” A low snort. “For whom? Everybody here's on the verge of dying from boredom. Nope, wait - correction. Those two in the corner aren't. They're already dead.” Bruce's stern glimpse turned into a frown. “That is Gotham's retired chief prosecutor and his wife.” Tony raised the flute to his mouth with a click of his tongue.

“Zombie alert.” It earned him another evil-eye. “You are supposed to set an example for the boys. Yet you sound just like them.” Tony tsked. “Next you'll blame me for Damian watching Tales from the Crypt.” Bruce stopped walking. “Excuse me?” Before Tony could elaborate, a high-pitched scream from a woman got them instantly alert. Seconds later, their four sons dashed into the ballroom in a whirl of extremities.

“MISTER OINKERS!”

Mouthing “Mister Oinkers?” to his husband, Tony then spotted a small black piglet scurrying across the parquet floors of the ballroom, sending a good portion of their guests into an instant frenzy. “Would you look at that...-” Tony barely suppressed a loud, snorting laughter as the poor piglet got caught up underneath a woman's dress. “A pervy piggy.” A youthful war-like scream made them swivel back around.

Full of utter amazement Tony and Bruce witnessed how their youngest son dove belly-forward on polished floors to slide down the path the pig had taken, arms outstretched in front of him. The woman's scream increased even further and with an almost comical move, she hopped on a nearby chair, thus freeing the animal caught underneath her long ballgown.

“It doesn't bite!”  
Jason's shout made Tony tilt his head towards his husband.  
“Is he talking about the pig or Dami?”

Bruce countered Tony's loud musings with a deathly stare. “We have to do something before...” Both of them stared wide-eyed as the huge ice-ornamented sculpture started to wobble dangerously from left to right when Mister Oinkers slipped and stumbled along the cascading satin drapes of the sculpture's table on the floor. “... things escalate?” Tony finished for him, talking from the corner of his mouth.

After he had disposed of the flute, he snapped his fingers at the group of musicians who sat in the corner and regarded the uproar with growing confusion. “Hey, fellas, can you play that song they use for the ladies who throw up their legs and show their panties?” It earned him a rather bland stare from one of the violinists. “The... Can Can, Sir?” Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him.

“Yes! That's the one! Make that a li'l fast-paced number here - and like those dudes on the Titanic, don't stop until we stop.”

A tug on the back of his collar made him yelp out. “What are you doing!? Do not encourage this!” Stark patted his husband's arm. “This party just went from lame-ass boring to highly entertaining.” At the first tunes of Offenbach's classic composition, he began to unbutton his tuxedo. Left with his husband's jacket in his fist, Bruce's seething stare was met with one of Tony's best, most ecstatic grins. “Piggy hunt, here I come.”

With that, he dashed onward, right into the chaos.

+

Alfred, who had been in the kitchen to uncork more bottles of wine, stopped short in the archway of the large ballroom, baffled. To the sounds of the small orchestra in the corner belting out Offenbach's Infernal Gallop, he saw how the huge ornate ice sculpture finally gave into gravity and shattered to the ground into millions of crushed ice pieces.

Pennyworth also caught a glimpse of Tony skittering past the sea of ice chips on the floor, managing to stay on his feet with an impromptu but graceful pirouette. He tried to snatch a small black animal but failed, making the creature scurry onward through rows of banquet tables, sending more people screaming and tableware flying. Close on Tony's heels were the Wayne boys, using various means of moving along the ballroom.

Jason was doing parkour across any movable or immovable object coming his way, at some point swinging from one antique brocade curtain to another, making way for Richard and his athletic somersaults on the banquet tables. Tim and Damian raced along the ground, sliding underneath tables and jumping over chairs with guests still on them.

The butler then spotted Bruce Wayne standing aside, jacket in hand, watching the scene unfold with something between utter stupefaction and stoic resignation. Once his flabbergasted butler had caught up with him, the two witnessed the small squealing animal zigzag-racing through the ranks of equally squealing females. Alfred leaned sideways, eyes never leaving the scene. “Do I even bother to ask, Master Wayne?”

Just then, Tony Stark, shirt already soiled with indefinable buffet ingredients of sorts, dodged an elder lady with a bouffant dress and an even more bouffant hairdo just seconds before a fatal collision, yelling “Sorry, Ma'am!” over his shoulder. His billionaire husband palmed his face with his free hand and shook his head.

“Close the fucking patio doors!”

Jason's yelled-out command got Damian to drift over to the corner, using his house slippers like skates, maneuvering through the crowd with agile moves. Meanwhile, Tim had teamed up with Tony to round up the anxious little pig after Stark had desecrated a tablecloth to use as a makeshift dragnet and waved it around. It took two tries, then the tablecloth landed over the pig and blinded its sight long enough.

Almost in unison, Tony, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Richard lurched ahead and landed belly-upward on the corners of the cloth, finally trapping the poor animal for good. After he had scrambled back to his feet, Tony raised both of his thumbs over at the still playing orchestra in the corner before he gave them the time-out gesture and they brought their current rendition to a fitting grand finale.

Huffing and puffing, Tony wiped the back of a hand over his forehead and looked at Jason who was cradling the flailing bundle in his arms.

“Use the overall commotion and flee.”

“Where to?”

“Greenland should about do it.”

It was said with a wink and an affectionate Wing Chun jab to Jason's back. After his sons and Mister Oinkers had left through a side entrance, Tony brushed down his ruined dress shirt and went to join his husband. “Whew. I really don't know where the term lazy pig comes from.” He gleefully eyed Police Commissioner Gordon who stood next to the billionaire, mustache twitching as if to fight back a laugh.

Bruce glowered at him and his soiled attire and all but pressed the tuxedo jacket back into Tony's hand before he focused back on the other man. “Commissioner Gordon, I deeply apologize for the incident, also on behalf of my husband and our children.” The police officer cleared his throat and put up a stern expression despite the fact that his eyes were twinkling behind his thick glasses.

“Well, Mister Wayne, consider the fundraiser a catastrophe, but the District Attorney said he hasn't laughed as much as tonight in the past year. He is certainly going to bring it up at the next meeting of yours.” Surprised, Bruce looked up from where he had put up a mask of contrite and remorse. “Meeting? Which meeting?” Gordon's mustache twisted into something that resembled a smug smile.

“To discuss the future cooperation between your company and the DA's office, Mister Wayne. Good night.”

Alfred, who had been circumspect enough to guide the frazzled guests out and into their respective limousines, went to fetch the commissioner's coat. Once it was just the two of them, Tony hummed. “Maybe we should think about getting a dog.” He was gone before the nervous twitch of Bruce's cheek could become truly dangerous. When the billionaire looked at his reappearing butler, Alfred inclined his head.

“I do believe Master Anthony is right. Having a canine companion is linked to lower blood pressure and decreased stress levels, which contributes to a better overall health, Sir.” Bruce Wayne nodded along, the grin on his face turning jackal. “Thank you for your input, Alfred. I trust you will be taking care of this. Good night.” Left behind, Pennyworth looked around the battlefield that was once the ancient, grand ballroom.  
  
“Of... course, Sir.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piggy hunt scene works best with this part of Offenbach's Infernal Galop playing in the back:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Diu2N8TGKA


	93. Chapter 93

With a nimble turn of the wheel, Bruce put the Porsche Turbo S into parking position. “We're too early.” At Tony's mumbled demur, Wayne checked his watch. “Just fifteen minutes.” They both unbuckled and Tony checked their backseat. “Been meaning to ask: Why's the car seat for Ava in the middle?” He watched Bruce take his glasses out of the middle console box. “Because it is the safest place in the vehicle.”

“Did Alfred tell you that?”

“No, I looked it up.”

At his bespectacled seriousness, Tony could not help but to chuckle and shake his head at the same time. “Way to be a marshmallow, BB. That whole vengeance and dark knight schtick? A sham. Be glad your baddies never discovered you're soft on babies or else they'd have armed themselves with bibs and strollers and whatnot.” Wayne scowled as he followed him down the front yard. “I am not soft on babies.”

They walked up to the door where Tony pressed a finger on the doorbell to which a melodic tune erupted.

“Ah, we'll see 'bout that.”

Before Bruce could give a reply, Pepper Hogan opened them, looking radiant in a checkered blouse, blue jeans, and her hair up in a ponytail. She first hugged and kissed Tony on the cheek before embracing Bruce and urging them both to come in. “Are you guys sure you really want to do this for the weekend? She's in a full-blown rebellious phase ever since her first birthday.”

Inside, the house smelled of warm vanilla scents, coffee, and baby cosmetics. The corridor was lined with framed pictures of the little family, all frames coming in different shapes and sizes. Bruce's eyes rested on a picture that looked older than most. It was black and white, showing a very young Pepper with her parents.

“How so?”

Oblivious to his quiet observations, Pepper pushed a couple of toys out of the way with her foot. “Lately, her favorite word is no.” Tony made a presenting gesture at his husband. “We came prepared. See, I brought the enigmatic baby whisperer along. BB's gonna lay his -let's call it unique- charm on thick and we're good.” Pepper laughed and went up the stairs. “Good luck then. She's in the living room. Go say hi, I'll fetch her bags.”

As soon as her footsteps had disappeared, Tony leaned against the door frame, crossed his ankles, and peeked into the cozy living room of the Hogan household. “G'morning princess. Don't you wanna say hi?” The girl sat with her back to them, red curls pinned up and playing with what looked to be some sort of octopus toy.

"No."  
She did not not bother to turn around. Tony chortled at the determination in her voice.  
“Well, okay then, but are you ready for your trip?”

“Nono.”

Next to him, the minuscule smirk that had entered Bruce's face turned straight up sardonic. His eyes flew to Tony when the latter nudged his shoulder. “I think I know exactly why the two of you get along so well. Now, to test my theory: Let us introduce exhibit A.” He cleared his throat and raised his voice into a sweet sing-song octave. “But Ava, sweetie pie – look who's here. It's uncle Tony and uncle Bru-uce.”

The infant craned her neck to peek into their direction. At the sight of the Gothamite, she mumbled something and drew her arm back, sending the octopus flying. Her sippy cup skittered across the floor when she kicked it away, pulling herself up on the edge of the sofa. Ava wore a pair of soft-sole shoes, burgundy corduroy pants, and a long-sleeved shirt in dusty pink that read 'I only cry when ugly people hold me' in bold letters.

The first time she had worn it to a visit at the Manor, everyone had suspected it to be from Jason. As it had turned out, however, it had been a present from Bruce and led to a lost bet among Tony, Tim, and Richard. After an initial wobble, Ava pitter-pattered into their direction. When she had reached her goal, she stumbled against Bruce's legs but remained upright. He looked down at her, face all stoic, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ava.”  
Her small features twisted at his uncooperative ways, leading her to pull on one of his pant legs with force.  
“Up. Bru-Bu. Up.”

In an instant, Wayne bent down to grant her her wish. As soon as they were face to face, the little girl reached out to snatch the glasses off his nose. Bruce let her concede with the slightest blink of his eyes. In no time, the lenses of his designer frame became smudged by the drool-and-cookie mixture on her fingers. "These are very expensive glasses-" Bruce's warning voice trailed off as Ava broke into one fine, drooling grin.

“Yup, as I was saying...”

Tony nodded along, not even pretending to hide his glee as he walked over to grab the octopus and the sippy cup off the floor. “... total marshmallow.” He went to meet Pepper in the corridor, his voice carrying over to where Bruce still stood. “See, the baby whisperer did a thing, like the true pushover patty he is.”

“I heard that!”  
Tony stuck his head back into the room and blew him and Ava a kiss.  
“You were supposed to!”

Bruce glowered at his back as Tony followed Pepper out to the car before turning his attention to the child on his arm. “Do you think uncle Tony is right?” Ava's big blue eyes shone back at him in a pensive manner while she intently chewed upon one side of his Chopard spectacles. Eventually, the item came out with a wet plop. “Nono.” At that, Bruce's sardonic smirk was back in place. “Glad we are on the same page.”  
  
He adjusted his hold on her, grabbed her little quilted jacket from the coat rack on the corridor, and walked out.  
  
“Let's go, Princess.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glasses by Chopard:  
> https://www.framesdirect.com/chopard-vchc37-eyeglasses
> 
> Ava's shirt inspired by this onesie:  
> https://www.lookhuman.com/design/113390-i-only-cry-when-ugly-people-hold-me/onesie
> 
> and her sass is inspired by the little cutie-pie in this video:  
> https://youtu.be/UAMEtdljY2M?t=31
> 
> ~~~  
> *deep breath*
> 
> Wow, okay, looks like we made it. Get ready for some sappy ramblings in three, two, one...
> 
> Allow me to say I am deeply moved, overwhelmed, and grateful like no tomorrow for all the response this fic has gotten almost from the get-go. This verse started out as a joke of sorts, somehow grew into its own over the past ten months, and I could not be happier about the fact that I got to share it with so many of you. Seriously, you readers made this story with your constant input; be that comments, kudos, and/or subscriptions - I really wanted to list all of you separately to say thanks, but I fear I'll be missing someone or burst the notes section, so please accept my heartfelt THANK YOUs - without you, I wouldn't have taken this story further than chapter 44! 
> 
> Also, I feel a bit (a lot) awkward about this, because it seems like subscriber-baiting, but... I really love this verse, and while I need a bit of a break from it right now, I'd love to come back whenever the muse tickles me. Like I've mentioned here and there, I already have some tidbits going around my head which might be worth exploring but are not posting-worthy by far. 
> 
> What I'm trying to say is that while I feel it's best to put this story as 'finished' for now, any potential new chapters will end up here, too, so if you would like to stay updated on any new Nanny Stark content, just... watch this space, maybe? 
> 
> Gee, this endnote is worse than most Oscar speeches, yikes. I shall shut up now, take a bow and say I love hearing from all of you, no matter how short a comment, no matter the verse :D


	94. Chapter 94

_The_Starkster 14:28  '[file sent Ava-bobbycar.mp4]_

_RichieRich 14:29  'Not ANOTHER ONE, Tony PLEASE' (see-no-evil monkey emoji)_

_TWayne 14:29  'Idk I kinda find them hilarious'_

_DemonDami 14:30  'you say that about every cereal cover too' (eye roll emoji)_

_Jace-the-mace 14:30  'hold it, dweebs, if Daddy T-Man wants to spam us with yet another baby vid, off he goes'_

_The_Starkster 14:30  'Thank you kindly Jay, and no, you're still not getting the Lambo. I asked (shrug emoji)_

_RichieRich 14:31  (tears of joy emoji)_

_TWayne 14:31  'loooool_ , _dad's still mad about Mr. Oinkers'_

_TWayne 14:32  'watcha wanna do with it anyhow?'_

_RichieRich 14:32  'hot date??' (smirking emoji)_

_DemonDami 14:32  (pile of poo emoji)_

_Jace-the-mace 14:33  'I could easily snatch it when no one's at home but noo, I am stupid enough to ask'_

_The_Starkster 14:33  'oh PLEASE do try, I really need a valid reason to dust off my suit *_ youknowwhichone _*_  
  
_DemonDami 14:34 'can it lift a whole Lambo?'_

_The_Starkster 14:34  'course, no biggie' (flexed bicep emoji)_

_RichieRich 14:34  'I'd pay good money to see that!' (thumbs-up emoji)_

_TWayne 14:35  'ditto!!!'_

_DemonDami 14:35 ' how about two Lambos, one on each side??'_

_The_Starkster 14:35  '…'_

_The Starkster 14:36   '... I_ _suppose I *could*, given the proper thruster capacity'_

_TWayne 14:36 (wide-eyed emoji)  'whoa, imagine the look on dad's face if he sees you doing that!!!!'_

_RichieRich 14:36  'I SO wanna be there if this EVER goes down, you guys better gimme a call beforehand'_

_RichieRich 14:36  'I'M SERIOUS, GUYS, PLS CALL ME!!!'_

_DemonDami 14:37  ' _could you juggle them, too?'__  
  
_Jace-the-mace 14:37  'so pathetic, Dicky. what would your wifey say?'_

_The_Starkster 14:37  'wait - wifey?'  
_

_The_Starkster 14:37  'what have I told all of you guys about shotgun weddings??'_

_TWayne 14:38  'that we need to be careful because we are still young and ruining our futures with rash decisions'_

_TWayne 14:38  (glasses-wearing emoji) (index finger pointing up emoji)_

_RichieRich 14:38  (rolling eyes emoji) (rolling eyes emoji) (rolling eyes emoji) just stop. All of you_

_DemonDami 14:39 ' yes, enough of this stupid girl talk - can you juggle the Lambos or not?'  
_

_Jace-the-mace 14:39  'if I don't get to drive 'em, you may as well wreck 'em, Nanny T._

_The_Starkster 14:39  'with regards to our upcoming family vacation, no cars get lifted whatsoever, sorry guys'_

_The_Starkster 14:40  'have another video of this cutie-pie instead!'_

_The_Starkster 14:41  [file sent Ava-bobbycar2.mp4]_

_DemonDami 14:41  (pile of poo emoji)_

_TWayne 14:41  'stop sending us your selfies'_

_TWayne 14:41 (tears of joy emoji)_

_DemonDami 14:42 (middle finger emoji)_

_The_Starkster 14:42  'G  U  Y  S'_

_Jace-the-mace 14:42  'someone better get me a ride to the airport, mine's not gonna make it and I'll be late  
_

_The_Starkster 14:42  'Richie, go pick your brother up on the way to the Manor'_

_RichieRich 14:42  'who's pathetic now, huh Jay?' (smirking emoji)  
_

_Jace-the-mace 14:43  'stfu dick'  
_

_The_Starkster 14:43  'whoever taught you guys how to family needs to be subjected to bread and water'  
_

_TWayne 14:43  'that's going to beneficial for losing those last few pounds before vacation starts, no?'_

_The_Starkster 14:44  'I see your subliminal jibe, Timmster, and I raise you a video game ban for the rest of the month'_

_TWayne 14:44 (shocked emoji) (shocked emoji)_

_DemonDami 14:44  'HAHAHAHAHA SWEET REVENGE!!!1!!!'_

_+_

After a long day spent at Wayne Tower, Tony entered the manor around 5:30 pm, said hello to Alfred and sought out his husband and his company in the salon on the ground floor. Bruce had been at the DA's office for the most part, going over the groundwork for the collaboration between the GCPD and Wayne Enterprises with a multitude of lawyers and auditors. “Evening my love. Did you take the Lambo today?”

Bruce nodded and got up from the huge leather couch to meet him for a peck on the lips. He, too, was still dressed in business attire. “The Aventador. Why?” Tony smirked. “Jay's asked again to take it and is miffed at being told no. If we find it gone we'll know where to check first.” Bruce's jaw twitched. “Have Jarvis update the garage's security.” His husband tutted. “Nah, c'mon. Also, he said he was sorry for the pig-cident.”

“Not to me. And you did not just call it a pig-cident.” All smiles, Tony shrugged out of his jacket and threw it into the overall direction of the sofa. “Did, too. Okay, he didn't say sorry in so many words, but admit it - if it hadn't been for Jason and Mr. Oinkers, Dent might not be sitting at the same table with you as of late.” He sidestepped his husband to pick up his failed throwing attempt from the floor. Bruce folded his arms.

“Are you saying I am less capable than a squealing piglet wreaking havoc on my gala fundraiser?”

An indignant undertone had crept into his voice. Tony scrunched up his face. “... not in so many words, no. You're... less entertaining maybe. But just as cute.” Wayne's quick set of reflexes made it easy for him to nab Tony in a tight grip around the waist. He pulled him close to snarl at him from close up even as Tony broke into a playful chuckle before he allowed Bruce to seal their lips for a second, proper kiss.

“Jason won't get to borrow a car until after the vacation. We need to stay firm on this one.” Wayne's gaze turned solemn, to which his husband nodded along. “Totally with you on this, BB. And speaking of wheels, I sent the boys the bobby car vids.” Tony glimpsed around. “Where's our princess by the way?” Bruce pointed his head over into the adjacent part of the library even as Tony called out their goddaughter's name.

“Alfred is going to give us hell once he sees what it does to the wooden floors.”  
Slipping out of the embrace, Tony turned towards the faint sound of plastic wheels.  
“Oh, please, if he sees how happy she is, he'll... ah! There's my racing babe!”

Tony hunkered down on one knee and made a come-hither gesture at the open doorway. Sitting on her new, bright pink little bobby car, Ava started scrabbling her feet on the floor to gain momentum and rolled his way with a lot of noise. Once she reached him, Tony lifted her off the car and swirled her around, eliciting bubbly giggles. “Tell me you've missed me, baby driver darling. Good-looking men like me are always so busy.”  
  
Ava screeched when he bestowed a smooch on her cheek, tickling her on purpose with his goatee. “Nono. Todo - no.” Bruce grinned with malicious glee at Ava's newest word creation. “Yes, clearly uncle Todo is a bad influence.” Tony swept her into the crook of his left arm and started swaying her along to some non-existent music. “Pshh. As if uncle Bru-Bu is much better. Bet he never dances with you the way I do.”

He looked down and found her attention taken by the shiny Wayne Enterprises ID clip-on badge dangling from his shirt's breast pocket. Tony then grinned at the top of her red curly hair. “Sweetie, I don't know where you even manage to dig up these dust bunnies in Alfred's hood, but this means bath time.” He was just about to pick the lint out of her hair when Ava let the retractable cord of the badge snap against his chest.

Tony yelped and winced. “Ouch!” She giggled as he pulled a face. “Why, you little mean BDSM queen.” Focusing on his husband who gave him a look that seemed to say watch your mouth, Tony then shifted Ava's weight into his right arm. “Okay. BB, how about I'll go sponge her up real quick and you'll ask Al to make dinner. He can take her from there, and you get to tell me all about your friend Harvey the invisible rabbit.”

“He's not my...-”  
Bruce exhaled upon falling victim to yet another of Tony's weird movie references and simply nodded.  
“Go ahead, I'm with you in a minute.”

+

Even before Bruce entered the bathroom, baby squeals and Tony's muffled giggles could be heard. Upon opening the door, Bruce witnessed Ava sitting in a little portable bathtub placed in between the two sinks on the marble table top. Tony had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and was making punk-y hairstyles with her soaped up hair. Bruce paused to interfere, only to whip out his phone instead and started filming.

“Proof that Tony Stark is a bad influence all the way.”  
His dry off-screen voice made Tony snort without taking his eyes off his task.  
“Pep's gonna love this. Hap, too. Tell your parents you're gonna get a nose ring next, Ava-pie.”

Her big blue eyes met his twinkling ones in the mirror.  
“Nono.”  
The final words of the short video were Bruce's.  
  
“Smart girl.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ava's new bobby car  
> https://www.big.de/en/products/big-bobby-car/big-new-bobby-car/big-new-bobby-car-rockstar-girl-800056164/


	95. Chapter 95

Two days later, Bruce entered Tony's office at the Manor to a discussion between his husband and their guest. Tony was sitting at his desk with Ava on his lap, secured by his left arm around her middle, and let her spill an entire box of colorful, organic crayons all over the table. "... okay, but babycakes, this means I can draw here, too.” Ava's small palm reached out to spread the crayons all over his desk blotter.

“Nono.”  
  
Tony leaned in close to be able to look her in the eye.  
“C'mon, please – just over there? In the corner? I promise I won't interrupt your artistic freedom.”  
The little girl stopped shuffling through the crayons and regarded him with a profound pause.

“Ye.”

All megawatt smile, Tony applied a lopsided kiss on her cheek and took the charcoal crayon from her pile. He looked up to find his husband leaning in the doorway with an uncommonly tender expression at the sight in front of him. “Hi, BB. Welcome to our little creativity meeting. Ava's gonna leave us a masterpiece before she's heading back home tomorrow.” Bruce pushed himself off the doorway and walked towards them.

By now the toddler was already engrossed in smearing a green and a pink crayon in oval circles onto the paper on Tony's desk. “The week surely passed by fast.” He brushed a hand along his husband's shoulder and let it linger there. Tony nodded and started sketching. “I'm gonna miss her on our vacation. We should've asked Pep and Hapster if we could take her along.” Bruce removed his hand and leaned against the desk.

“Ava is not our child, Tony. Her parents would never let her out of the country if they weren't going with her.” Switching the charcoal for a red crayon, Tony craned his neck up to meet his husband's gaze. “So let's ask them to join us! They've never been to Fiji Island, that much's certain.” A muffled, vibrating sound made Bruce reach for the phone inside the pocket of his pants. His eyes were quick to read the latest mail in his inbox.

“Opposed to us, I would assume they both have obligations that require them to plan their vacation a bit more long-term.” At that, Tony pulled a face together with something between a harrumph and a sigh. “Yeah, I know. Maybe we should-” His voice trailed off, and he put the crayon down to twirl his index finger into one of the many red corkscrew curls inside Ava's ponytail. Bruce stopped looking at his phone and regarded him.

“Should what?”

Tony gave a small shrug and shifted so that Ava was able to reach the upper part of the paper. “Get another child. The boys have grown up so fast - Jason's already legal, Richard's not far behind, and with Timmy and Dami it's like you blink and they grow another two inches. Well, Timmy at least. But Dami recently lectured me on environmental footprints. In two years, he'll be off on gorilla rescue missions in the rainforest.”

“He will not be traveling the rainforest the age of 13.” Bruce's tone was gentle and chiding at the same time. Upon seeing his husband's wistful look, the billionaire slipped his phone back into his pocket and put a hand on the desk, leaning in. “So what you're saying is you want us to adopt.” Bruce's gaze fell upon Ava who was currently making erratic lines all over the desk pad and traveled over to his quiet husband.

“... Tony?”

The latter stopped doodling Iron Man schematics in the corner Ava had allowed him to use and met Bruce's questioning eyes. “I mean, playing the wacky gay uncle is great and all that, but with all of our free time now, I dunno, it might be a concept worth looking into.” Bruce watched Ava smudge all over Tony's sketch with an orange crayon. “Same-sex couples are likely going to encounter problems on the way to adoption."

“You're a billionaire, BB, just flaunt your wealth at them if you must.”

"I remember the struggle I went through with the boys, being a single parent. They won't be considering us a first choice is all I'm saying.”

“Well, they can go kiss my ass, that's what they can.”

The toddler paused and looked up.

“Ass.”

A stricken expression crossed Tony's features.

“Oh, nonono, sweetie, no no, we don't say that-”

“Assassass.”

She kept on repeating it over and over, stabbing her crayon along until it was a mashed piece of orange. Bruce gave a weary exhale and reached over to take the colored stump away from her. “I think a dog might actually be a safer option for you and your pottymouth.” Ava raised a chubby hand, all five fingertips smeared with crayon. “Todo say ass.” With a desperate groan, Tony tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.

“Pep's gonna kill me.”

+

“Good morning, critters. Since you love our gay godfather videos so much, I thought I'd do a final live stream feature for you before Queen Ava leaves the premises. Today's Thursday the 25th October, which means only two more days till we're all off to Laucala Island. And your dad is working hard on his beach body almost 24/7. Case in point-” One of Tony's hands came into view as it went for the door to the Manor's gym.

Hanging from the tall rig in the middle of the room was Bruce Wayne, doing wide grip pull-ups. Strapped to his chest was Ava in a secured baby carrier, marveling at the repetitive up and down movement. “See, this is why you're just as bad as me, BB. No, you're even worse. Say hi to your big brothers, Ava.” The toddler squealed out in delight at hearing her name and bounced along, out of sync with Bruce's movements.

With a dark glare at being disturbed, the Gothamite finished his current set before he slid down to the ground in a graceful manner. “I am optimizing my training, nothing more.” In a fluent motion, one of Ava's kicking legs then caught him right in the groin. It prompted Bruce to drop down to one of his knees with a breathless whimper. Off-camera, Tony winced along with a compassionate-sounding 'Ouch'.

“She sure knows how to use those little getaway sticks already. That's what I call optimized.”

Tony's voice was tinged by fascination. Despite the pain-filled state he was in, Bruce still managed to loosen the carrier and put the toddler aside with care. He then curled up in an almost fetal position to nurse his mangled private parts. Ava sat on her diaper-clad behind, blissfully ignorant of the harm she had just caused, chewing on a Velcro strap of the carrier. Her blue eyes were watching him with deep curiosity.

“Bru-Bu?”

Tony turned around so that the phone's camera was now facing him, as well as Ava and Bruce writhing on the ground. “Technical KO. Looks like a chicken nugget but fights like a rooster. That's my girl.” He cast a quick sympathetic glimpse over his shoulder. “You good there, BB?” A muffled, indecipherable groan was his answer. Still grinning, Tony turned back to the camera.

“Gotta go, boys. Nurse Tony to the rescue. Enjoy your day, eat a healthy breakfast, and have some, erm, scrambled eggs on your dad's behalf.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "getaway sticks" reference is courtesy of RDJ accepting his latest Teen Choice award from a giant panda (weird but true, look it up on YouTube if you want)
> 
> Bruce and his baby carrier inspired by the very Mister Bale and his babybjorn model:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/4e/1c/ab/4e1cab941c915dbffd618c8d6fe5a0aa.jpg


	96. Chapter 96

Laucala Island was 3,5000 acres of azure water, endless white beaches, and lush green vegetation. Upon arriving via a seven-seat turboprop plane on the island's own airstrip, the Wayne family was taken into their private villas. One domicile belonged to the boys, one to Alfred, and the third one housed Bruce and Tony. Each villa came with its own infinity pool and several bathtubs as well as a private armada of housekeepers.

During the whole time of their stay, a 94 feet-long luxury catamaran was also at the family's beck and call. It came with a small crew, four cabins, and enough space to accommodate eight people. It had two jet skis and two electronic wakejets on board, resulting in the two eldest Wayne boys instantly calling dibs. Damian's bottom lip wobbled with youthful rage. “You goddamn imbeciles - I wanted the wakejet!”

His father threw him a reproachful look. “What have I told you about using this kind of language?” Next to him, Tony adjusted the straps of his neon green life vest. “Yeah, Dami, what the hell.” Upon Bruce's ongoing glare transferred into his direction, Tony patted their son's shoulder and simultaneously helped him fasten his own safety vest. “Chill, Dami, you and I are gonna take one of those babies and show 'em who's boss.”

Tony pointed at one of the carbon-black jet skis and swept the protesting boy off his feet. Ultimately, Bruce and Tim took the other jet ski and chased after them while Alfred sat in the shade of huge palm trees on the beach. Ever so often, he would lower his copy of Immanuel Kant’s 'Critique of Pure Reason' to watch them from afar, peeking over the rim of his reading glasses with a content expression.

Half an hour later, Bruce Wayne ditched the jet ski and left his sons and husband to frolicking around on the catamaran. His butler watched him wade ashore and reached into a bag to his left. Grateful, Bruce took the big fluffy beach towel and rubbed down his hair and torso before he spread it out on the nearby, free recliner. Pennyworth watched him stretch out his limbs with a soft, indulging sigh and allowed himself a smile.

It was a rare commodity for the billionaire to be able to show his scar-riddled body without a nosy audience to benefit from a healthy dose of tanning. Uncaring about his disheveled hair, Bruce then turned his head and looked at longtime confidant. “Not in the mood for a swim, Alfred? Tony kept asking for you to join him on a jet ski.” Pennyworth pushed his reading glasses up on his nose and reached for the tome in his lap.

“I prefer doing my 60 laps in the pool early in the morning, Sir, thank you.”  
  
For a while, they lay side by side, listening to the far-away laughter and cheering of their family and the soft breeze rustling in the palm trees. When the soft sound of a throat being cleared reached his ears, Alfred let his gaze wander from the page back to the profile of his protege. By now, Bruce Wayne had crossed his arms behind his head and was staring up into the blue sky with a pensive expression.

“Tony and I are thinking about adopting another child.”  
The butler let the book sink once more.  
“Congratulations, Sir. I believe this is a wonderful idea. Miss Hogan has already been a lovely addition to the family.”

Hazel eyes found his. “Seeing how fond Tony is of Ava, it is reasonable to put our time and resources to good use. We can provide a safe and stable environment for a child to grow up in.” Pennyworth overlooked his sterile explanation in favor of reaching over and daring to pat a muscled forearm, feeling gnarly reminders of a jagged knife wound under his palm. “I could not imagine a happier scenario for all of us, Master Bruce.”

The smile that was cast his way was, for once, a real one; it reminded the butler of the time when the man next to him was still a polite and shy boy of seven years, unprepared for the abyss of death and destruction he was thrown in a year later. “That's what you say now. We might need to rely upon your expertise in dealing with the upbringing of an infant.” Pennyworth's weathered features turned into an all-over benign smile.

“A position I will gladly fill out when the situation arises, Sir.”

They gazed over to where the luxury catamaran was anchored. By now, Tony and the boys had scrambled back aboard the vessel. Bruce squinted against the glimmering surface of the ocean and saw Richard, Tim, and Jason lining up on the boat's railing. In sync, they then jumped into the crystal-clear ocean with Tim doing a cannonball in the middle and Richard and Jason doing complex backward somersaults.

A muscle under Bruce's eye twitched when his husband put his hands to his mouth and expelled a sharp whistle.

It was more of a cheer than an admonition.

“We still need to speak with the boys when the time is right.”

+

Later that evening, everyone went to wash the salt water from their hair and body and got dressed for dinner. Tony opened when it knocked on their door and came face to face with his oldest son. "Hey, T-Nan, you happen to have a spare charger? Dickie and Tim are not sharing and the little demon spawn has a weird Fisher Price mobile or something like that." Tony beckoned him inside and went for the drawer of his nightstand. 

"Where's the B-Man?"  
Jason glanced around the vast villa which was near-identical to the one he shared with his brothers.  
"Gone for a quick workout before dinner."

Todd rolled his eyes.  
"So. Extra."  
"There you go - catch!"

With a smirk, Tony flung the charger his way. It clattered to the floor because Jason was too busy stuffing two canapés at once into his mouth. "Lame-O, Jay, what happened to your cat-like reflexes?" Tony made a tutting noise as he walked over to where Jason bent down to pick the charger up. “Hold up, hold up, what's that thing right there?” In an instant, Tony snatched up a little plastic bag that had fallen out of his pocket.

He regarded it for a second before clicking his tongue and shaking his head at the same time. “Jay, Jay, Jay – really now... Why?” The adolescent crossed his arms. “Cause it was a real bargain. And it's 100 % organic. Support your local island weed farmer and all that jazz.” Tony's left eyebrow arched. “Who's your dealer?” Jason gave a toothy grin. “I'm not telling.” A nod. “Fair enough. Snitches get stitches.”

Just as Jason was about to reach for the small bag being held out in his direction, Tony pulled it back with a devilish grin. “However - this comes with a hefty price to ensure my ongoing support, devotion, and protection of yours truly.” His son frowned. “Meaning what?” Tony's eyebrow quirked again, though in a more serious than mischievous way as he held up the small plastic bag between his index and his middle finger. 

“Let me Fisher Price it up for you. It means Imma confiscate this now but won't mention any of it to Bruce. Unless you go and repeat your douchebaggery attempt at 420-blaze-it. Then I'm coming for you and straighten your ass out so it'll be flatter than a postal stamp. Capiche? Are we having a deal, Jayjay?” Jason's grin turned wide like the Cheshire cat in the cartoon and he clicked his heels together and gave a mock-salute.

“I'm in there like swimwear, bro."

+

“In the mood for an evening stroll?”

Bruce looked up and saw Tony linger in the doorway of their villa. He was still wearing the navy polo shirt and the slim-fitted beige chino shorts from dinner. His toes were peeking out from leather flip-flops. Bruce put the book on architecture back on the coffee table and rose. He was dressed in a loose-fitting pair of white linen drawstring pants, a short-sleeved blue button-down, and brown slippers like Tony's.

“Matter of fact I had something similar in mind.”

They walked down the heavy planks all the way from their bungalow to the island, holding hands and talking about this and that. At the junction of the landing stage, Bruce stopped Tony's stride with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “Let's head over there.” His chin pointed at the catamaran at the far end. A pair of dark eyebrows rose. “You know how to steer this thing by yourself? Should've known.”

Minutes later, Tony stood next to him at the helm and watched Bruce maneuver the vessel onto the ocean.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info on the island which really exists and belongs (how fitting) to a reclusive billionaire, is taken from here:  
> https://www.travelandleisure.com/articles/a-reclusive-billionaires-private-island-resort-in-fiji


	97. Chapter 97

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think parts of this chapter could be considered higher-rated for various reasons (all of them non-graphic and non-endorsing)

As soon as the island retreat was at a respectable distance, Bruce dropped the anchor and turned towards his husband. With a glimpse up into the starry sky, he reached out and clasped Tony's waist, pulling him closer. “There is a promise I need to fulfill.” He leaned in for a deep kiss, feeling and hearing Tony sigh into his mouth. Force of habit, Bruce's hands began to roam lower until they were able to cup his husband's ample backside.

In the left pocket was a small but distinctive bump, and Bruce felt Tony starting to squirm and wiggle out of his inquiring grip. “Wait a sec, I...” Bruce was faster than him and reached into the chinos to pull out the mysterious item and hold it up against the dim moonlight. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the contents. “Where did you get this?” In seconds, Bruce's eyes had turned to small, almost Batman-esque slits.

“Uh...-” A look of unease crossed Tony's features. “I... uhm... found it?”

“ _Tony...”_

Said man took a precautionary step backward, holding up his arms as if to ward off any imminent danger. “Now hey hey hey, wait, stop. I'm not saying anything without my... butler. Where's Alfred when you need him?” His try to escape Bruce's looming proximity were thwarted by a hand around his wrist. “What are you not telling me?” Eyes open wide, Tony pointed an exaggerated finger at his own chest. “Moi?”

“Yes, you. Talking French is not going to get you out of this.”

“Merde. [shit]”

"You do realize the ramifications of your actions go much deeper than me catching you with illegal substances, now don't you?" Flabbergasted Tony said nothing, but when he took a breath and was about to reply, a sinister-looking Gothamite held the small bag up like a piece of evidence. "I am thinking about raising another child with you, but under these circumstances, I don't know if I can safely condone it."

Bruce's voice was flat and full of disappointment. Tony's head shot up from where he had inspected his flip-flops with great interest. "NO! I mean - not really, I just... this was a mistake but not one that I-" Angry at his ramblings, Tony snapped his mouth shut and worked his jaw in silence. Then Wayne spoke again, softer that time. “I know you. You're only fidgeting when you're trying to cover for the boys' misdemeanor.”

Feeling caught, Tony stopped twisting his fingers into the belt loops of his shorts. “Am not.” They locked eyes until Bruce Wayne raised his chin with a supercilious nod. “So it's Jason's.” A dark triumph lay in his demeanor as he crossed broad arms. Mouth grim, Tony snatched the plastic bag from his fingers. “Technically it's mine now, because I confiscated it. You should be proud of me for making him see reason.”

“I should be giving him house arrest for the rest of his stay.”

“BB, c'mon now, we're on vacation.”

“The point?”  
Bruce's voice was back to being sharp like needles. Tony's grin turned placatory.  
“It's not the end of the world, there are worse things than a little weed. You know that yourself.”

The Gothamite threw the item in Tony's hand a wary glance.  
“Matter of fact no.”  
Tony blinked up at him, honest surprise all over his face.

“Really? C'mon, you're pulling my leg here, BB. Never once smoked a blunt?”  
Bruce Wayne's disdained expression spoke volumes, yet he answered.  
“No.”

“Then you can't get all worked about it because you don't have first-hand experience. But - we can change that.”  
Tony waved the little plastic bag in his hand.  
“Mariju wanna join me?”

+

The stars were bright across the dark and quiet ocean. Two silhouettes were sprawled out on the catamaran's trampoline net, arms crossed behind their heads, gazing up at the sky. Every now and then a small glimmering stub lit up the night as it was passed between them until Tony flickered the remains overboard and turned his head towards the man by his side. “How do you feel, BB?” A harrumph. “Like I always do.”

Tony exhaled the final gust of smoke through his nose and watched it curl and waft away into the air. “That bad, huh. Just kidding. Maybe the pot was wack. But even so, you see there's no harm done. Still, I think Jay's out for any Lambo-renting in the near future.” Wayne hummed along. For a while, each of them remained lost in his own thoughts. Eventually, Bruce sat up and leaned over his husband's mellowed-out form.

“Admittedly, coming out here tonight was a good idea. The boys are ashore, the crew is absent. You know what that means.” He traced a finger along the collar of Tony's shirt, tugging on the buttons. “Pardon me?” Wayne nodded, serious even as his finger dipped inside and drew circles on the warm, tan skin around his clavicle. “Of course, you are not on trial. I forgive you for trying to beguile me.” Tony frowned in plain confusion.

“I'm afraid I don't-”  
Bruce put an index finger on his lips while his own parted in predatory delight, exposing white teeth.  
“Let us fornicate on this vessel.”

His burning intensity, as well as his peculiar choice of words, made Tony burst out laughing. “BB, you-... naughty, naughty boy, you. Looks like weed brings out your dirty flirty side after all – I like it.” Wayne's face morphed into a lecherous simper. He removed his hand from Tony's chest and idled it down his belly. “You know what I'd like? Really like? Riding that big, fat dick of yours for the rest of the night.”

With that, his palm slid south to cup his husband's crotch area. Tony almost jumped. “H-holy friggin... whoa.” He blinked the slight sluggishness behind his eyelids away and tried to prop himself up on his elbows. “Darling, you're gettin me all hot'n bothered. Ease up on the dirty talk or Imma come in my pants right here.” One of his elbows got trapped within the squares of the trampoline net, and Bruce chivalrously freed him.

"My hero." 

Tony erupted in a giggle fit when Bruce then hoisted him over his shoulders in a wonky fireman's carry. They stumbled into the queen-sized stateroom in a tangled cluster of extremities, before Bruce threw him on the bed, making short work on getting them both undressed. “Been thinking about your cock ever since we got here. Whip it out and have my way with it. Maybe I'll blow you first...” Face red, Tony slapped his arm.

“BB, no-”

“... before I'm taking all of that gorgeous prick of yours until you're balls-deep in me.”

“... BB, I swear you gotta stop. Sheesh damn, who knew you'd straight up turn into a porn star when you're blazed.”

They stared at each other until Tony once again erupted in snorting, uncontrollable laughter. Bruce's burning gaze never wavered.

“I am neither. Now fuck me.”

+

The next morning, the two of them were the last ones to join their family for breakfast on the patio of Alfred's villa. Upon their rather groggy looks, Jason lowered his fork. “Did you have a good night's sleep? I, for one, thought I heard some really loud screams at some point - like someone had the time of their lives.” Tony glowered at him all the while pouring sugar into his coffee. Jason only batted his lashes.

“Must've been mistaken. Still, the fresh ocean air really gives you this all-natural... high. Ain't that right, Bruce?”  
His tone was knowing, the curling grin on his lips nothing but lewd.  
Bruce groaned and went back to massaging his temples with gingerly fingers.  
  
“Eat your breakfast, Jason.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... whatever happens on Fiji stays on Fiji. And now back to our regularly scheduled Gotham programming ^^
> 
> In the meantime, here's your friendly reminder that "Drugs are bad, mm'kay" - Mr. Mackey  
> (source: https://i.imgflip.com/276sh6.jpg)
> 
> Sincerely, a boring author who only gets high on writing


	98. Chapter 98

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *~Happy Birthday to exactly 1 year of Nanny Stark today~*

Fifteen days later, the Wayne family returned to Gotham. Since the boys had to leave for their respective schools, Alfred made sure to send them back with suitcases full of clean laundry and lots of homemade food. Tony hovered around the kitchen, nursing an espresso and watching the bustle with amusement. “They'll be back for Thanksgiving, Al, they're not heading out to war. This will tide them over until next year.”

Pennyworth merely graced him with a mild smile and headed out to distribute a huge stack of boxes between the Wayne boys. Once he was gone, there was an indignant huff from the counter. “Speak for yourself, Nanny Dad.” Jason stuffed yet another Tupperware box into his already crammed backpack. “Campus food sucks more than you know.” His whining got him a mock-sympathetic coo in return.

“Learn how to cook Mister Too-Cool-For-School, et voilà - problem solved. And it'll get you a rep with the ladies, too.” Todd cast him a cynical glance. “Bruce can't cook for shit and yet you married him.” An index finger pointed at him. “Point. But he pulled the butler card, how could I not.”

“Privileged punk.”  
Tony's grin turned shark-like around the rim of the small cup.  
“Privileged punk who gets to eat buckwheat waffles for breakfast.”

Jason grumbled and pulled the protesting zipper shut with force. “Buckwheat my a-” Just then Bruce entered the kitchen, dressed in a knitted beige turtleneck, dark pants, and a pair of Blundstone boots. Like the rest of his family, he too was sporting a decent tan, and for once had not bothered to shave, let alone gel his hair back. His appearance prompted his oldest son to end his sentence differently. “-lmighty.”

Wayne Sr arched a groomed eyebrow. “Excuse me?” Jason erupted in an angelic smile. “Bruce Almighty. That was a movie reference in case you didn't get it. And cause I'm still not used to seeing you with all that Jesus fuzz.” To Tony's quiet but not quiet-enough-to-overhear chuckle, Bruce growled at his son. “Packed up and ready to go?” Jason gave a cocky salute. “Yessir.” A thumb pointed towards the door. "Then go."

In a swift move, Jason slung his backpack over one shoulder and nodded into Tony's direction. “Later, Anthonanny. Enjoy the buckwheat.” Tony responded by blowing him an audible air kiss and giving him a reverse victory sign in return. “Later, hater.” As soon as they were alone, Bruce's solemn gaze was resting upon him. “Do I even want to know between the two of you?” A grin. “Not really, no. Just this: We love each other.”

A deep, pensive frown weaved in between Wayne's brows. “That's what I fear.” Tony stepped up to him and cupped his neck. "No need. My love and devotion for you is unparalleled, BB." With that, he ran his palms over the scruff on his husband's cheeks. “Jesus fuzz, though. That's got a nice ring to it.” His fingers went up higher to rake through Bruce's thick hair, enjoying its additional inches as well as its non-gelled fluffiness.

Despite his tender ministrations, Bruce drew back after a few moments. “I have to go. I am going to drive Damian back to school.” Baffled, Tony lowered his hands. “Okay? Why's that if I may ask? Thought that was my job.” He followed his husband out into the foyer where Bruce took an overcoat from the rack in the corner. “I wanted to speak to him without any interferences.” Tony stopped and stared as he slipped into the coat.  
  
“You. Speak. Voluntarily. Hmm. Something's rotten in the state of Gotham.”  
At his bastardized Hamlet quote and the way Tony stroked his chin, Bruce grunted.  
“Whatever.”

+

Out on the driveway, everyone had gathered to say their goodbyes. Richard and Tim had already piled into Jason's dark green Chevrolet Malibu sedan; a 2002 model he had acquired after selling his old pickup truck. True mechanic at heart, Tony had given the car a general overhaul to make sure it met all safety standards. Bruce then approached his youngest who stood kicking the Chevy's tires and bickering with Tim on the backseat.

“Come with me.”

Damian's eyes narrowed. “Tony said he was going to drive me.” He made a move to look around for the person in question. Bruce nodded a goodbye at his older sons before Jason drove off. “Tony is busy.” Green eyes traveled over to the butler standing next to Tony, both of them engrossed in a quiet conversation. “Then Alfred can drive.” Met with such reluctance, Bruce forcefully yanked the car keys from his pocket.

“Alfred is busy as well. Hurry up.”

With that, he marched over to where a Range Rover Sport in metallic gray was parked. After a short while, Damian's footsteps could be heard following him, shoes dragging through gravel. The Range Rover unlocked with a blip, then its electric locks clicked shut as soon as both sat inside and Bruce put the vehicle into motion, pebbles crunching under its big wheels. The radio began to play and the billionaire turned it off.

Opposed to him, Tony usually drove with any audio on full blast, singing along at the top of his lungs. Damian kept his gaze straight ahead at the road, mouth reduced to a single line; a spitting image of his father. They drove like that for 20 minutes until Bruce addressed the topic at hand. “What would you say if Tony and I were thinking about adopting another child?” Damian's reaction was instant. “No. I don't want that.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“That is no real reason.”

A traffic light in the near distance turned red. Bruce took his foot off the accelerator and tipped at the brakes. “Do you fear we would be neglecting you?” A small hand balled into a fist in Damian's lap. “I don't fear anything!” He turned his head to the side and propped his elbow up on the door frame. “I wish Tony would have driven me.” From the reflection of the window, Bruce saw a truculent expression written all over his face.

The billionaire looked ahead and frowned at the sticker-covered trunk of the Toyota in front. “I wanted to know your opinion.” His son gave a spiteful tsk. “My opinion does not matter. You needn't have bothered, father.” Bruce's fingers clenched around the wheel. “That is not true and you know it.” Neither of them spoke until the traffic light turned green and the SUV accelerated with a deep roar as Wayne put his foot down.

As soon as they had left the Palisades and entered the freeway, it started to drizzle, and Bruce switched on the windshield wipers. “Why?” Damian's question almost drowned within the swooshing sound. Bruce cast him a glimpse. “Why we think about it?” A sullen nod. Bruce focused on the road again. “It would make Tony very happy. He misses having you around.” His son gave a low snort into his palm. “While you do not.”

Instead of an answer, Wayne Sr went into a passing maneuver. The Range Rover complied with a mighty whine. “I respected your choice in staying at your school. I would have done the same if you had chosen to come back.” Damian's eyes darted across acres of green. “It is good to know I have earned your respect, father.” His voice was flat. “At least until the new child comes along.” Bruce was back to frowning at the road.

“Tony, Alfred, and I will do our best to make sure that everyone gets what they need."

"I do not need another individual who takes my room and my things and gets a free pass on everything."

"This is no competition. You don't have to fight for our attention. Your privileges remain untouched.”

“That's what you're saying now.”

“And you may hold me to it in the future.”

The rest of the drive was spent in utter silence.

As soon as they had approached the venerable gates of Phillips Andover, Bruce drove up all the way to the main entrance seeing it was still raining. Putting the Range Rover into park position, he played out his final trump card. “It also makes you the older brother.” Instead of piling out of the car, Damian remained seated, watching the wet asphalt littered with fallen leaves with a certain kind of intensity for the longest time.  
  
“I am not coming to visit until it is potty-trained. And doesn't cry all night.”  
A tentative smile crept upon the edges of Bruce Wayne's mouth.  
“Duly noted.”

 


	99. Chapter 99

Back at the office, Bruce immediately got immersed in meetings with DA Dent and his entourage. Tony, too, threw himself into work, seeing there were a couple of Wayne Enterprises projects he was the current leading engineer for; with the GCPD collaboration being the most pressing one.

One late afternoon, Tony was in his office at the Tower, busy drawing 3D schematics. The rest of his crew was attending a think tank meeting to conjure up a timeline to get his designs into production. When his mobile rang, Tony hurried to wipe a palm on his thigh to brush off the sugary remains of his snack. He dug through and brushed aside several empty candy wrappers and reached for the buzzing device, smiling at the caller ID.

“Hey, BB.”

“What did you do to the prototypes of the new GCPD police cars?”  
Sitting up straighter and rolling his shoulders, Tony blinked and adjusted his reading glasses.  
“A lovely afternoon to you, too, Toffeebear, and you have to be more precise.”

Bruce Wayne took an audible breath before he hissed into the receiver. “They are blaring out some sort of ghetto music, and I just had to listen to Dent and Gordon both chewing me out about not taking this venture as serious as I should.” As he spoke, Tony began to rub at a chocolate speck on his holodesk. “Shucks, thought they'd like that feature. It was Jay's and Richie's idea. Personally, I wanted 'Waterloo' but got outvoted.”

“Uninstall it. Immediately. No music.”

“But BB-”

“No. Music.”

The line went dead without further ado, leaving a very miffed Tony to stare at his phone.

“Tch. The gall of this man.”

He threw the mobile aside to resume his work but found his concentration lacking. After a while, Tony gave up and saved his current progress. A glimpse at his phone brought no news, so he put it to his ear once more. “Hi, Al. Do tell - is Bruce home already? No? Good. What's for dinner? Ah. How about you save all the work for tomorrow? I'm in the mood for dining out tonight. Uh, no? Of course I didn't mess anything up. Why?”

+

When Bruce Wayne stepped down the solid stairs of the District Attorney's office, it was already dark outside despite only being close to 6 pm. He had chosen to have Alfred drive him downtown in the morning to be able to work on some of the many emails in his inbox during the commute, but a text from his butler said he would be unable to pick him up in time. However, Alfred told him he had seen to a replacement.

Instead of the limousine, a white Audi R8 stood waiting for him at the curb, its headlights dimmed. As soon as Bruce gripped the handle and opened the door, the chorus of ABBA's 'Waterloo' greeted him. Tony sat in the driver's seat, left hand atop the wheel, gnawing on his bottom lip and keeping his gaze straight ahead. “Funny.” Bruce's flat tone spoke volumes as he slid into the passenger seat and put his briefcase down.

Once he had pulled the door shut, Tony turned the volume down and looked at him. “Here I am, finally facing my Waterloo.” Wayne continued to glare at him until Tony heaved a big sigh and dropped his chin to his chest. “Okay, I admit I should've informed you first. Sorry. But the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself.” Bruce reached for the seat belt on his right. “Apology accepted. Just stop it with the lyrics.”

“And how could I ever refuse?”

“Tony. I'm seri-”

“Knowing my fate is to be with you.”

“One more word and I'm going home on foot.”

Seeing Bruce already had one hand on the door handle, Tony deflated. “Damn, this basically begs for the 'I tried to hold you back, but you were stronger' line but nope, okay, I won't.” With a flick of the wrist, the music was turned off completely and Tony shifted until he was facing his husband. “How does going for dinner sound?” A minuscule smile flitted over the billionaire's tired features. “Like a very good idea.”  
  
He leaned over to meet his husband's pursed lips for a warm, loving kiss.

+

Upon Tony's suggestion, they ended up sitting at the counter table of a local sandwich restaurant, trying not to get chipotle sauce on their suits and ties. Bruce was the first to finish eating and crumpled the wrappers into a tight ball. He then took a sip from the soft drink Tony inched into his direction and cleared his throat. “I may have found an agency willing to cooperate with us.” Tony licked sauce off his thumb.

“Agency? Like in super secret FBI or CIA stuff?”  
A lenient smile.  
“An adoption agency. Specialized in LGBT couples.”

At that, Tony stopped chewing for a moment, mouth still full. Affectionate, his husband reached over and brushed a breadcrumb from his upper lip. The movement brought Tony back to reality and also to a huge coughing fit when trying to swallow and speak at the same time. Bruce gently patted his back and pushed the plastic cup back to him. “I thought it could not hurt getting to know a bit more about what's possible.”

Tony blinked against watering eyes, put the sandwich down, and reached for a paper napkin. “Okay, uh, that's... wow, I thought-” He used it to wipe over his eyes, blew his nose, and reached out to sip some ginger ale. “Thought this topic already was on the 'rejected' pile.” When Bruce said nothing, Tony leaned towards him, across the counter. “I always wanted to have a child with you, BB, but only if you really want this, too.”

At his wording, the Gothamite's cheeks flushed with color. He looked down to where Tony's warm hands encircled his. “I have already addressed the topic with Alfred. He has been very encouraging. Damian, however-” At a loss for words, he left the rest of the sentence in the open and glanced at his husband. Tony was returning his gaze with the most beatific smile. “So that's why you were so eager to play chauffeur. Oh, BB.”

His thumb started to run caressing circles over Bruce's knuckles. “How'd he take it?” Wayne's grimace spoke volumes. “He has already not been too fond of Ava. There will be issues with a new sibling.” Tony made a conspiratorial sound. “Or he might end up liking the role of the bigger brother. Depends on how we're selling him the concept." Bruce nodded, once. “We need to talk to all of them if things get... more serious.”

Tony gave a final pat to the area he had been stroking in a tender rhythm and stood up to dispose of their tablets. “We will. Thanksgiving's basically around the corner. Now let's head home, I gotta get out of this monkey suit.” Bruce followed him over to the Audi, roaming unabashed eyes all over his husband's wiry yet ample physique. “As far as I know the label says Zegna.” There was little to no malice behind his statement.

Tony clicked his tongue at the same time he pressed the unlock button on the car key and went ahead to hold the door for his husband. “What's in a name. Also, I know you just totally checked out my butt.” Bruce ducked and got in. “One of my prerogatives. And frankly, why wouldn't I.” When Tony appeared on the other side, sliding into the driver's seat with flourish, he bestowed a fervent look upon him.

“Still hungry? You just wolfed down a foot-long sandwich. Or, maybe, that's actually it? Feeling... inspired, BB?”  
The latter curled his mouth.  
“There's always room for dessert.”

+

Later that evening, Tony knocked and entered Bruce's office in the same breezy stride he was used to. Wayne was sitting at his desk in the semi-dark, the only light coming from the traditional banker's lamp on the side. His jacket was gone, as was his tie, and two buttons of his shirt were undone. He was bent over a multi-page report, pen in one hand while his other elbow was propped up on the table, fingers supporting his head.

“Still working hard, Mister Wayne?”

Bruce looked up and saw Tony standing in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, arms folded over his chest. At the open affection that shone back at him, the billionaire gave a rueful smirk and let the pen sink. “You know me.” Tony closed up to him, but instead of taking up his former favorite place right atop Bruce's desk, he threw a leg over his husband's chair and sat down, straddling his lap.

“Exactly. Which is why I wanna remind you that you're still in for a treat, Mister W.”  
  
The Chesterfield leather chair creaked at the added weight and the way Bruce leaned back. A cunning grin played on the billionaire's lips as he raised his eyes to find and hold the intense gaze of his husband. "My office is not the best place to devour sweet... things." His right hand came up to trace the sweep of Tony's quadriceps under his sweatpants before his index finger inched towards the inseam, traveling upward.

Tony's smoldering smirk was accompanied by the tip of his tongue flicking into the corner of his mouth. "Figured. So how about we take this somewhere the 'no sticky stuff around important papers' rule doesn't apply?" Mere heartbeats later, Bruce had wrapped his palms around his husband's backside and rose to his feet. Tony interlocked his fingers in his nape and began nuzzling and nibbling on the side of his neck.

After carrying his cargo upstairs with utmost care despite the sensual distractions, Bruce discovered their bedroom was illuminated by one of the warmly-glowing Baroque table lamp chandeliers. The covers on the bed were slung back, the curtains closed. "Put me down." Tony's warm, breathy voice tickled the shell of his ear, and Bruce complied, albeit sliding him down in slow motion and keeping his hands on his rear.

"I still have to go back and finish my work later on."  
Bruce's mumbled apology came out in between kisses. Tony was already working on the zipper of his pants.  
"Mhm. I promise this'll be a good time to have your cake and eat it, too."

Without further ado, Tony then set out to undress his husband. Once he had him naked and writhing with desire, Tony straddled his hips once more and began to ride him in a slow, sensuous way, bending down to capture his half-open lips in a kiss ever so often. Soon, Bruce started to make those rare, soft moans, and Tony made sure to keep him pliant and unguarded by starting to mumble strings of filthy endearments.

It had the desired effect and Bruce fell over the edge first, fingers digging deep into the flesh of Tony's hips, and head tilted back to expose the column of a pale throat. The alluring visual paired with the way he groaned out his husband's name made Tony press his hips down harder until a quivering orgasm tore out of him seconds later. When his breath slowly returned to normal, Tony put a cheek upon Bruce's warm, heaving chest.

For a while, he listened to the strong and fast heartbeat under his ear while he felt Bruce starting to caress his bare back with gentle, circular motions. “I'd love to have a daughter. She'll grow up to be just as educated and well-spoken like you, BB.” At that, Bruce's motions stopped for a moment, and Tony raised his head to search for his gaze in the dim light. Wayne's hand then came up to cup his husband's heated cheek.

“And she is going to become one of the smartest women on this planet with you as her mentor.”

From where Bruce's thumb was brushing over the edges of his goatee, Tony turned his head until he was able to place a smudged kiss into his palm. Once he was tugged against his husband's side and got handed a tissue to clean up as good as possible, Tony yawned into the crook of a muscular arm. “Maybe she'll become the next President. With all our good influences.” About to press a kiss into his hair, Bruce gave a quiet snort.  
  
“Not if she is going to run her mouth like you.”  
A sturdy finger poked into his flank.  
“Ain't nothing wrong with a little spunk.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aforementioned 'ghetto music' is supposed to be this remix:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQ4kkwfOd3g&feature=youtu.be&t=23
> 
> The lyrics mentioned in this one belong, Tony already said it, to 'Waterloo' by ABBA.


	100. Chapter 100

In between designing advanced, non-lethal weaponry for the GCPD, Tony's heart continued to ache whenever his gaze fell onto his old sketches and 3D models of his own armor. Despite Bruce's clear “No more Iron Man” precept, part of Tony had kept on toying with the idea of getting Rhodey into the loop; to donate the suit and modify it to make it fit his friend and continue its short-lived success story.

However, even if Rhodes were more than willing, Tony also knew he would not be able to live with himself should anything ever happen to his friend while he was out there in the suit, so he scrapped the idea altogether and went back to the proverbial drawing boards. A couple of tech-binge evenings and late nights in the cave, conversing with Jarvis, eventually led to him creating a whole new batch of unmanned drones.

When his unsuspecting husband stumbled upon the designs on the cave's triple-secured mainframe one day, he demanded answers.

From where Tony was facing the desk, he raised his hands in a pacifying manner. “Before you say something, BB, look: They are completely autonomous and AI-controlled. Iron legionaries.” Wayne, weary from yet another long day spent in back-to-back meetings with auditors and lawyers, glowered. “What happened to not wanting to go into serial production?” At his fractious tone, Tony replied in an equally petulant fashion.

“Excuse me while I sit here growing mold, waiting for the promised fresh-faced rookies to leave police academy and join the GCPD. C'mon, BB, think straight here - no more vigilantism requires a-whole-nother approach to the city's overall safety, no?” Bruce's gaze flew over to the lifeless hull of the armored suit behind its secured Plexi-glass case. “All people will know Iron Man is directly connected to Wayne Enterprises.”

While any previous animosity had left Bruce's voice, his stance still remained judgmental. Tony pushed himself off of the holodesk table and reached out to hook his index fingers into the belt loops of Bruce's dark-gray business pants. “So let them. We can simply continue to keep the anonymity of the test pilot while presenting the armor's next-gen unmanned aerial drones." He gave a grin at the memories on the naval carrier.

"Isn't it funny how things come full circle. LexCorp's been lusting after schematics like those for ages.”

Bruce's face grew sinister. “Not just after those.” Tony's lips curved into a soft, indulgent smile. “Ah, I just love it when your raging jealousy pops up. It's like leaving a pot full of boiling-hot pasta stewing in its frothy bubble water for just a moment too long – and then bam - it goes and soils all of the stove.” Wayne blinked at him like he was speaking in a foreign language, only to give a sinister, if a bit exasperated eye roll.

“Thanks for the vivid mental picture, Mister Stark.”

“Stark-Wayne, and you're welcome, Mister Wayne.”

When Bruce remained silent, Tony wormed his arms around his midriff and cocked his head in a conspirative way. “But for reals – think about this. They can be deployed either via aerial drop-off or by pre-installed, sealed titanium boxes which could be placed all over the city. It'll be like a batch of jack-in-the-box drones to fight crime!” The Gothamite absorbed all of Tony's sincere enthusiasm, only to exhale through half-open lips.

“I need time to make up my mind about this. And I want to get Lucius in the picture, too. We're talking militaristic measures here, and there are a lot of pros but also cons to be taken into consideration with regards to the company's public image.” Tony lowered his arms and scratched the back of his head. “Course, yeah.” Bruce's eyes wandered over to the screen in the back where Tony had been working at until he had arrived.

“What kind of vehicle is that?”

He pointed at a sleek-looking carbon black sketch of a hovering aircraft with an impressive wingspan. His husband chuckled and rubbed at his nape instead. “Oh, that's... I call it the Deployer. It -well, duh- deploys the Legionaries. Assemble and disassemble them for starters, but also exchange them for maintenance, and what have you. It comes with cloak and stealth functions, armory, and a self-maneuvering mode."

Something flickered up in Bruce's gaze the longer he stared at the concept carrier, and Tony was quick to point his digipen at the sketch and closed the folder. "At this point though, it's nothing more than a theoretical lovechild.” Bruce kept on watching as Tony saved his progress with Jarvis' help and powered down the computer. "Let's go upstairs, I'm starved, as are you probably. Also, we've got mail from the adoption agency."

"What does it say?"  
After pressing the elevator button, Tony's hand reached for his.  
"I haven't opened it up yet.”

Over Alfred's beef noodle stew, which required a brief reheating period, they sat down at the large kitchen table and read about the many ways an adoption could take place; its terms and conditions, as well as the usual, necessary requirements. Blowing across his spoon, Tony slurped some of the hot liquid. “We should make a tentative appointment first. Get a real, first impression.” Tony nodded and flipped the latest page.

“Sounds like a plan. Tomorrow?”  
Bruce shook his head and dipped his spoon into the soup.  
“After Thanksgiving is the best I can promise right now.”

+

One evening around 8:30 pm, Bruce sat in the back seat of the Bentley, tired from yet another long day of work.

Ever since the Batman's official retirement, a slight increase in crime in Gotham over the span of a month. Even if his nights were not occupied with being out on the streets anymore, Bruce nevertheless found that his daily daytime workload had increased almost tenfold. Seeing how he wanted to implement the upgraded safety concept for Gotham as soon as possible, he kept on working hard almost 12-14 hours each day.

Like most evenings, Alfred had been so kind to put the partition wall up as soon as he had laid eyes upon his jaded protege, and Bruce truly intended to make use of the thirty-minute drive home to take a brief power nap. He slid down deeper into the plush leather seat, loosened his tie and brought one of the twin 15' LCD TV screens to life to let the soft drone of today's stock market in the background lull him into sleep.

However, the news channel speaker's factual voice soon managed to get through to his still-present subconsciousness. “Former leading member and heiress of her father's empire, Talia Al Ghul, has been released early from prison. She had been serving her 15-year-sentence ever since the bust on her clan last summer, leading to the liquidation of a business said to be involved in warmongering, extortion, and human trafficking.”

Overwhelming tiredness forgotten, Bruce sat up straighter and reached out to turn the volume up.

“It was due to exemplary compliance with institutional disciplinary regulations, a federal spokesperson from the Qanater El Khayereya Women's Prison has stated. Miss Al Ghul is said to return to the States. More on Channel 9's late night news.” A sudden pain erupted in Bruce's right hand, and he looked down and saw he had clenched it into a tight fist. Releasing it brought minimal relief, but the Gothamite paid it no more mind.

He reached out to press the speed-dial button on the limousine's middle console. After two rings, the line got picked up.

“Hey, honey. Please don't tell me you're working late again tonight.”

“No, I'm on my way. Meet in the cave in about fifteen.”

“... okay, uhm, sure. BB... are you- is everything alright?”

“That's what I want to find out.”

Once Bruce stepped into the dark premises, he inhaled the familiar aroma of moisture, listened to the static hum of lights up above, and fastened his eyes upon the silhouettes of the Tumbler and his arsenal gallery of suits. “I'm guessing you didn't invite me all the way down here to do some sick donuts in the Batmobile." Tony's voice echoed through the air. At the unamused glare it brought him, he shrugged with glee.

“I mean I'd be game, but-”

“Let's do it.”  
Complete surprise shone back at him.  
“What??”  
  
Bruce stood up straight and squared his shoulders.

“Initiate the Legion program.”

Tony closed his gaping mouth and fell silent for a couple of heartbeats. Then he drew in a breath to speak. “I... oh. While I'm all for spontaneity, especially coming from you, have you thought this through?” Wayne walked past him to take a seat in the Batman's chair, running his hands over a keyboard and typing in some command. A gallery of perpetrators zoomed in on one of the screens, and Bruce initiated an auto search. 

He left the program to itself, browsing matrix-like through some sort of archives before he turned around to face his husband. “As of today, Talia is out of prison.” A glimpse at Tony's shell-shocked expression told Bruce everything he needed to know. “While we cannot be sure whether Ra's Al Ghul also survived, or how many unknown allies Talia has, this is enough of a reoccurring threat for me to act out upon.”

Tony rocked back and forth on his feet and squinted at the brightness of the screen. “We have yet to decide who gets to have the 'deploy' master command button for the Legionaries. Smarvey Harvey also known as 'Da Dent'? Or Goody Two Shoes Commissario Mustachio? Who's gonna be your favorite crime-busting heartthrob, BB?” Bruce ignored the little Jeopardy hum Tony made and fastened his eyes on the computer screen.

“Harvey will be given his fair share of intel about the legion, as a means of trust for this endeavor. The master command should go to Gordon. However, I want a failsafe button, here in the cave. We need to be able to shut them all down at once.” Even without the Batsuit, Bruce's voice had taken on the trademark, clipped intonation. His husband turned his back on the screens, crossed his arms and leaned against the console.

“Here's to safety netting and all that jazz, but think about it, BB - this could backfire. While the system is triple-secured like all of your servers, it could still be tracked down, the drones sending its coordinates by accident, however unlikely, and bam - Batman out in the open.” Mouth grim at not finding any leads regarding the Al Ghul clan, Bruce stood up.

“The Tower then. At your lab.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Deployer in my mind looks a bit like the Batwing from the Arkham Knight video games:  
> http://arkhamcity.wikia.com/wiki/File:1444857027_batwing_arkham_knight_1.jpg
> 
> I want to thank odd_izzy for the input on this chapter, which includes the idea of the Iron Legion and their state of deployment all over town, as well as some ideas on the original Iron Man legacy. I apologize because the end result is not quite as thorough and well thought-out as it could have been with all the support I received, but I hope it is still bearable somewhat.
> 
> Also, NB in general: 
> 
> I realized recently I have written myself in a corner regarding future chapters and basically revamped huge parts of the outline. After a minor (read: major) freakout, I am now at a point where I feel like I know where I am going with this, but am still not 100 % happy with the result. Yet. I hope you bear with me as I am working on giving this story the closure it deserves. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me so far.


	101. Chapter 101

On Thanksgiving, the whole Wayne family gathered at the Manor. Tony had insisted for his boys to come by around noon to help Alfred with the preparations, despite the fact the butler had vehemently tried to keep intruding forces out of his kitchen. Jason and Tim arrived on time, with a recalcitrant Damian in the backseat. “I refuse to drive back with them. They ate KFC and made me listen to primitive pop music.”

The rest of his protests dissolved within Tony's big hug. “You'll get an exclusive ride back with yours truly.” Tony's smile turned mischievous as he whispered into his youngest son's ear. “We're gonna take the beastly Aventador and go all out. No pop music whatsoever.” Appeased, Damian headed over to where Alfred was waiting to take his coat. Standing aside and watching Tony engulf Tim in a hearty hug next, Bruce frowned.

“Where is Richard?”

Jason slipped off his woolen hat and maneuvered it onto the coat rack stand with a nimble throw, exposing an undercut hairstyle with a clump of matted hair on top. “He told me he'd run a little late so we went ahead.” Not paying Bruce's disapproving glance at his hair any mind, Jason allowed Tony to reach out and ruffle his top layers back into shape. “Hopefully not too late. We've got some news we really wanna share with you.”

At that, Damian's face scrunched up with distaste, and he skulked off upstairs with a dark look inherited from his father. Tony perked up. “Hey, Lord Hades, don't get too comfy in your room, there's a batch of potatoes with your name on them.” Despite the playful voice, Damian turned around, banister in hand, and graced him with a look of petulance. “I am not peeling potatoes like a peasant.” A finger got pointed in his direction.

“In this house, we support one another, Thanksgiving or not. So go get changed and then we're going to help Al shoulder the workload.” Damian kept on glowering and groused on about finding the proper rags to dress into first as he continued to trot upstairs. Pennyworth put his hands on his back and leaned in. “Much obliged, Master Anthony, although I fear you are going to cause more harm than good."

Tony stopped engaging Tim with a few play-pretend Wing Chun jabs. "How so?" The butler tilted his head. "Letting Master Bruce take care of the stuffing seems like a recipe for disaster.” While his husband and two sons did not even try to hide their grins and chuckles, said billionaire gave a harrumph. “I am perfectly capable of stirring a few pre-measured ingredients together.” Tony's eyes sparkled. “Which is why you're going-"

Just then, the roar of an engine could be heard outside. Bruce and Tony shared a look of mutual confusion, but it was Jason who beat them to it by yanking the door open wide. “Look at that, Dickie's brought his new ride.” Tim and Damian, who had sprinted back down the stairs at the commotion, joined him and squeezed left and right of Jason's frame to gawk out of the large front door. “Whoa, look at that thing!”

At Tim's exclamation, the boys all went outside to where Richard had arrived on a motorbike with a black-blue color scheme and a sleek, streamlined look. He was wearing a sturdy black leather jacket and boots, dark denims, and motorbike gloves and pulled off the helmet as soon as he was surrounded by his family. Wayne Sr's eyes narrowed at the sight. “What is this?” All calm, Richard balanced the helmet on the engine block.

“My new Yamaha YZF 125.”  
The glare Bruce threw Tony was met with a hasty shake of the head and so he focused back on his son.  
“When did you get a motorbike?”

Richard averted his piercing gaze to twist the keys out and slip them into the pocket of his jacket. “After passing my road test two weeks ago.” A muscle on Bruce's cheek twitched. “Why didn't you tell us about this?” Still not meeting his gaze, Richard busied himself tugging off the left glove, then the right. After stuffing them into his pockets, he ran a hand through his matted hair and swung his leg off of the machine.

He had grown another few inches, almost evening out the height difference to his father, even though the billionaire was of a broader built. “I wasn't sure if I'd pass.” It sounded cocky and worsened Bruce's already cranky mood. “It's too dangerous.” A confident smirk. “I'll be careful.” Wayne Sr crossed his arms and furrowed his brows. “You'll be scattered all over the freeway before you know it.”

He and Richard had gone over to stare each other down; a silent battle of youthful defiance against fatherly sternness. “I want you to bring it back.” At Bruce's commandeering tone, Richard's voice rose. “No! Why don't you understand I'm not a child anymore whom you can boss around?” Before things could escalate, Alfred called everyone inside. Tony signaled for Bruce to give him five minutes with Richard alone.

Without bothering for an answer, Bruce turned around and marched inside. While Jason, Tim, and Damian trotted after their father and Alfred, Richard went over to fiddle with the helmet's visor, mouth clamped shut. “You and your dad not seeing eye to eye on this topic was a given, no?” Dejected, Richard looped the helmet over the bike's handle and looked at him, all miserable. “Why does he have to keep on treating me like a kid?”

Tony's eyes softened. “Because you are our boy, Richie. You'll always stay our boy, even if you've grown ten inches and morphed into a male-model by now. And you know your dad – his way of showing concern is to basically murder you.” With piqued interest, Tony then rounded the bike, pausing to hunker down to inspect its engine before he hummed. “On a brighter note, I assume Babs totally digs this look. Very James Dean-y.”

That was when Richard's already wobbly facade began to crack and his eyes filled with moisture. “We split last week.” Wordless, Tony extended an arm and his son drooped into the quasi-embrace, head hung low until it rested on Tony's shoulder as he kept on sniffling softly. “She told me it's over for good this time. I don't want to live without her.” Running his hands up and down his back, Tony made soothing noises.

“Richie, Richie, Richie. You're far too young for a so-called quarter-life-crisis. And you and Babs have been playing that on-off-spiel forever, I doubt you'll stay away from each other long.” A sliver of light from the ajar main door grew bigger. “Master Anthony, you are going to catch a cold.” Richard drew back and both of them glimpsed over to where the butler stood. Tony nodded and gave a few soft pats to Richard's back.

“C'mon, we need to get started on dinner. Cleaning green beans is going to take your mind off of things.”

+

During the next three hours of food preparations, Bruce and Richard avoided eye contact and talking to each other. Damian got banned from the kitchen after hating on the turkey and instigating a food fight with Tim, and Jason displayed a hitherto unknown talent at peeling and cubing potatoes. Once the table was set and everybody had gathered around it, Tony looked at his withdrawn, quiet husband. "Wanna do the honors, BB?"

With an almost stubborn slant of the head, Wayne Sr raised his chin.  
"This house is going to be the home of another child in the foreseeable future."  
Nothing else followed.

Alfred regarded his protege with solemn eyes. Damian was back to making a disdained face while Tim was torn between looking at Tony and Bruce and trying to catch Richard's gaze to gauge his reaction. When the silence dared to become too awkward, Tony pushed his chair back and walked over to fetch a bowl of mashed potatoes from a nearby serving cart. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm almost starved."

Before he could sit down again, Jason got to his feet. “Congratulations, Bruce, about time you managed to knock him up.” With that, he put his arms around Tony's midriff and encircled him in a tight hug. Richard and Tim erupted in howling laughter, and even Damian managed to make his scowl almost resemble a smile. With a pout, Tony put the bowl down. “Slander. That's what I get for indulging in Alfred's fine cuisine.”

He then batted his eyelashes and tilted his head upward to press a kiss on his taller son's cheek. “I am going to cash in mandatory foot rubs from you, Jay.” Todd fastened his hold and grinned down at him. “Anytime, Mommy Stark. Can't wait till you start showing.” Bruce Wayne glared at them, but when Jason's hands started to caress Tony's non-existent belly, he rose to his feet. “That's enough.” His voice had a dangerous edge.

It prompted Jason to remove his arms and hold them up, palms facing the billionaire. “Look at the alpha-male defending his territory. Relax, Bruce and stow away your fangs, he's yours, morning sickness and all that.” Tony wiggled two fingers into his direction as he took a seat again. “Your mouth is writing checks your ass can't cash, Jay.” Said boy clicked his tongue and reached across the table for a piece of turkey.

“Story of my life.”

The rest of the dinner went without further arguments, and Tony was able to tell their sons a bit more about the adoption process and the upcoming meeting with the agency in question. Once everybody was complaining about never being able to eat again, a peaceful atmosphere set in. While Alfred was taking care of cleaning the kitchen and refused any help, Tim started talking about his plans to study computer science at MIT.

Being an MIT graduate himself, Tony was ecstatic and set out to tell him stories about campus life. Meanwhile, Jason had managed to lure Damian into a card game of War. After listening to his husband's daring stories about his student life, and Damian's complains about Jason's growing his pile of cards, Bruce's eyes darted over to his remaining son who had been sitting in a wing chair by the fireplace for the longest time. 

Apparently engrossed in something on his phone, he did not participate in any conversation and kept on staring at the small bright screen with a frown in between his brows. “Richard?” The boy in question looked up, hand hovering over the surface of his device. Bruce inclined his head. “Come with me.” Tony tried to catch his eye, but Bruce had already reached the door and was not turning around to see if their son was following.

He, therefore, gave an encouraging nod and wink at Richard's sullen expression and watched him trudge after his father. The billionaire was heading for the manor's foyer, and darkness gaped at them once he opened the front door and headed outside. Richard followed at a distance but remained standing atop the stairs. “Are you going to chew me out for longer than 15 minutes? If so, I'll go fetch my jacket.”

Gravel crunched under Bruce's shoes as he walked over to where Richard's motorbike was parked up. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his woolen tweet pants and inspected the machine without an identifiable emotion. “I thought you and I had come to an agreement.” Now Richard had to follow him to be able to understand his low-spoken words since Wayne had turned and stood with his back toward him.

“About?”

“About being upfront with each other.”

In an automatic reaction, Richard's arms came up to protect his chest. “Okay, here's upfront. Yes, I did not tell you about the bike because I knew you were going to say no. But I wanted to own a license because I'll need it in my new job." He paused just long enough to take another deep breath. "I want to become a cop. I applied at the police academy in Blüdhaven and they've accepted me. I will start at the beginning of next year."

Throughout his rant, Bruce Wayne had remained quiet. Richard risked a glimpse and saw the rise and fall of his father's chest in the artificial light of the overhead lamp that illuminated the main entrance. “Why not the GCPD? If you want to work in law enforcement, Commissioner Gordon would be more than happy and willing to show you the ropes." Taken aback by the lack of protest, Richard started shaking his head.

“No, I... no. I can't." He dropped his arms and balled his hands into fists at his sides, staring down at the ground. “Barbara and I broke up because of my decision. She said she doesn't want to end up like her mother.” The burning sensation of threatening tears was back and he clenched his teeth to fight them. Then there was a palm on his shoulder, and it startled Richard enough to blink up into the grave face of his father.

“Blüdhaven is a 30-minute drive from Gotham. Your old room is still the way you left it.” Bruce Wayne's voice was objective, though the corner of his mouth twitched once. “Even though Tony and I wanted you to take up the apartment in New York.” Richard shook his head with a smirk and sniffed. “Jason keeps on raving about that one. Let him have it, I don't need it since I'll be living at the academy campus most of the time.”

More silence set in, and Richard swallowed against a lump in his throat when the steadying palm got lifted from his shoulder. “But... I - did miss Alfred's cooking and I hate doing laundry, so-” He took a deep breath and a step closer towards the man whose face was partly covered by shadows. “Okay. Thanks, dad. I'm really happy for you and Tony, by the way.” At that, the first, real smile of the evening crossed Wayne Sr's face.

They walked back up the stairs side by side without another glance at the motorbike.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richard's new bike inspo:  
> https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/aa/Yamaha_YZF-R125_blu.jpg


	102. Chapter 102

“ _Today, Wayne Enterprises announced its official launch of the so-called Iron Legion project, in cooperation with the GCPD and the district attorney's office. The Legion consists of unmanned aerial drones ready to assist the police during crime-fighting endeavors and de-escalating measures. Initial public response varies from honest enthusiasm to open hostility and doubts about the integrity of people's personal freedom.”_

At that, the billionaire gave a disdained quiet harrumph but kept on watching. _“Whether Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark-Wayne will be able to ensure their best, philanthropic interests for the city remains to be seen.”_ With a resolute click, the screen switched to black. “We need to keep the project accessible for people to understand.” As he spoke, Bruce looked over at his business partner. Lucius Fox nodded.

“PR does its best to work on the necessary steps. However, not just the public, but also the stockholders and the board of directors need to be mollified after the huge investment.” Wayne put the remote on the armrest of the leather couch and got up. Fox watched him slip his hands into the pockets of his dress pants as he meandered through his office. Eventually, Bruce stopped at the panorama front overlooking the bay.

“I assume this involves something public and expensive.”  
Lucius also rose from his seat with a compassionate, if mischievous smirk.  
“PR suggests an official, introductory event.”

+  
  
“You must be the Waynes.”

In unison, Tony and Bruce rose from the crème-colored couch in the waiting area. A 40-something woman stood in the doorway. She had blonde hair and her blue eyes which were hidden behind a pair of thick, dark-rimmed glasses. Her austere gray costume stood out in stark contrast to a warm, sympathetic smile. “Sandra Miller. We have been in touch. I hope you had a pleasant journey. Traffic is terrible in the mornings.”

They shook hands and, over mandatory smalltalk, walked into a spacious office-like room with large windows, modern art on the walls, and a couple of potted plants in one corner. From the third floor, the view stretched out across a small pond in the distance, close to the parking lot where Bruce had left his Maserati Gran Turismo Coupe. As soon as Tony and Bruce had gotten seated, they were served a glass of water each.

Sandra Miller then slid into her chair across from them and folded her hands. “After our last conversation, I have found and picked out two possible matches, according to your stated preference of a foster care adoption.” She reached into one of the drawers on the left side of the desk. Two light-green portfolio folders appeared on the glass table, and she turned them around for better readability for her clients.

Curious, Tony leaned in as one folder exposed a cute little girl with wisps of blonde hair sitting on a plush rug. “This is Johanna, 10 months old, from Blüdhaven. Her parents split right after her birth. Her mother is currently in a reintegration program that helps teenage parents to obtain a degree and build a stable environment.” Bruce's eyes were quick to dart back up to their host. “This would be an open adoption?”

Sandra Miller nodded and glanced down at the folder. “Previously, there will be compulsory meetings with her mother, for you to get to know each other and speak about visitation rights and everything that goes with it.” When Bruce and Tony nodded, Sandra Miller reached for the second file. It opened to a picture of a girl with light-brown hair and dark eyes. “This is Emilia, 13 months old. Born in the Narrows, of Italian descent.”

At that, Tony's eyes lit up. “Italian. Like my mother.” At the encouraging smile of the advisor, he made an elaborate gesture. “Well, she was only part-Italian, but still... I know a few bits and pieces.” He glimpsed at his husband who was regarding the portfolio with the same clinical, detached expression from before. Wayne then looked up. “What about her biological parents?”

A flash of sorrow made the advisor reach for her glasses and adjust them higher. “Tragically, her parents died in a mugging on the street between rivaling gangs six months ago.” Bruce stared long and hard at the advisor, eyes unblinking. Eventually, he could feel Tony reach for his thigh under the desk. The advisor gave them another gentle smile. “I am going to be right back. Feel free to talk it over.”

As soon as the door had clicked shut behind her, Tony cleared his throat. “She's perfect, BB. Look at her.” His voice was almost a whisper, shaky with excitement as he looked at the picture again. “Parallels are not everything.” Bruce's words came out forced. Tony squeezed and rubbed at the twitching muscle under his palm. “I don't know if they did it on purpose, but even if, I can't imagine this is founded on bad intentions.”

Once again Tony gazed back at the infant on the photo. “I want to meet her. See her in person.” The return of Sandra Miller interrupted Bruce's possible response. She resumed her seat and gave them a polite, inviting look. “I assume you have several questions.” Seeing Bruce was still as reticent as before, Tony took over. “How long are the waiting times for a foster care adoption?” The advisor gave a circumspect tilt of her head.

“Waiting time is around four months. Apart from the legal work and a background screening, a home study is a required process to ensure whether or not a person is suitable to become a prospective adoptive parent.” To Tony's surprise, Bruce spoke up first. “Is it possible to arrange a face-to-face with her?” His finger pointed at Emilia's portfolio. Sandra Miller pulled the file back and flipped through the rest of the exposé.

“Emilia is currently at a local foster care just a few miles from here. I can give them a call and see about a visit.”

Both of them nodded and pretended not to listen in with too obvious interest during the brief conversation. When she had hung up, Sandra Miller pulled a leaflet from a top drawer of her desk and slid it over. “The social workers are informed. Here's the address. Visitors are kindly asked to not stay longer than half an hour.” Upon seeing Wayne stare at the piece of paper with an uneasy expression, Sandra Miller smiled at Tony.

“Just get to know her for yourself, think it through, and take your time afterward. We will stay in touch."

They shook hands and headed out with a copy of Emilia's exposé and the leaflet a little later. Tony insisted on using the restrooms before they left, and once he stepped out of the electric sliding doors, wiping washed palms on his pants, the Maserati stood waiting for him at the curb, its heater providing warmth and the navigation system already programmed on the new address.

Tony buckled up just as the electronic female voice informed them that the GPS was connected.  
“This is all just merely tentative, BB. If the chemistry isn't there, we'll keep on looking.”  
Face still tense, Wayne nodded and maneuvered the sports car onto the streets.

+

The foster care smelled of disinfectants and rosehip tea. The corridor floors were made from sprinkle-patterned linoleum waxed to shiny perfection. After they registered at reception, they were picked up by a young female worker with braided hair that had lilac highlights in it. Bruce and Tony followed her through a small labyrinth of aisles until they passed through a heavy wooden door and entered a large room.

There, the atmosphere was much more lively and warm. Around a dozen children of various ages were playing with each other or by themselves. The noise level was above moderate, and close to the window, a little boy was crying while a worker examined the broken toy at his feet. Bruce was the first to spot the girl from the photo. She was sitting on a maroon blanket in a corner, all by herself, a teddy bear in her hands.

Tony followed his line of view and made an unconscious, gentle noise in the back of his throat. Without thinking, he moved forward. “Hi, sweetie. You must be Emilia.” Big brown eyes searched his face. He hunkered down until he sat cross-legged in front of her, albeit at a non-threatening distance. “I am Tony, this is Bruce. We came to visit you today.” The girl said nothing but her eyes darted up to where Bruce stood, unmoving.

Seeing his husband trying hard not to let his compromised state show and failing miserably, Tony cast him a lopsided smirk and made a sweeping gesture. “Come on, BB, sit down. You're making our host nervous.” The Gothamite hunkered down on one knee, causing Tony to give a soft chuckle. “See, Emilia, you're quite special. You got him in less than two minutes flat. Took him over six months until he did that for me.”

She continued to look at him through large brown eyes, studying every move across his features. Her eyes flew over to Bruce and a tiny frown weaved in between her delicate brows. Tony pointed at the plush toy in her arms. “What a lovely teddy bear you've got there. Does it have a name?” Her mouth curled into what looked to become a reply, but the girl remained silent. Tony's smile never wavered. “Can I hold it for a second?”

At first, it did not seem to provoke any reaction, but after a few seconds, Emilia outstretched her hands, cautious, and held the toy out into his direction. Smile broadening as if he had just been knighted, Tony took it from her. “Thank you, sweetie.” The bear looked worn, one button eye already hanging on by a thread and some filling spilling out of its ears. Tony side-eyed his still taciturn husband. “Can Bruce hold it as well?”

He made an appropriate gesture but did not hand it over. Emilia's eyes wandered over to the other man and lingered on him for the longest time. Bruce, who was still crouching in what looked to be an uncomfortable position, shifted onto his other knee, mindful not to tear the protesting fabric of his slim dress pants. He provided a strained, closed-mouth smile and glimpsed at Tony. “No, it's fine.”

The girl's eyes rested on her toy again, and she made a grabby motion. Once Tony had given it back to her she clawed tiny fists into the bear's fur and pressed her face into it, hiding from their gazes. Bruce and Tony exchanged a look. Wayne was just about to start to move back into a standing position when Emilia raised her head. “Ba.” Surprised, Bruce stared at the bear that was being held out into his direction.

Next to him, he could hear and feel Tony gasp softly. Swallowing against a lump in his throat, Bruce took the toy from her. “Thank you.” The smile that crossed his features was shy, though less forced than before. His fingers brushed over the loose button eye. “The bear is hurt. He needs to go to the doctor.” His soft-spoken words made Emilia look from Bruce over to the teddy and back, clearly pondering his words.

After a while, the first, real smile parted her lips, revealing one little white front tooth.

Watching them smile at each other, Tony realized he had been holding his breath and reminded himself to exhale and breathe. “Bruce is right. Maybe we can heal him.” He hopped to his feet and before the Gothamite was able to stop him, Tony headed out of the room. Feeling awkward, Bruce cleared his throat. Emilia was back to studying him with her curious gaze, and the billionaire felt sweat prickle in the small of his back.

He shifted around some more for a less precarious position until he eventually resigned and went to sit on the blanket, teddy bear in his lap and extending his long legs to relieve some of their built-up tension. “Tony will be back in a minute.” As soon as he had said it aloud, Bruce frowned to himself and craned his neck to look into the direction his husband had disappeared off into. “Hopefully.”

Bruce all but jerked when Emilia suddenly shuffled and crawled closer to him, eyes trained on her precious bear. Once she had plopped down on her diaper-clad bottom, her tiny socked feet were pushing against Bruce's knee. “Ba.” It had a different intonation than before, sounding like a command, and without thinking, Bruce presented her with the toy. Emilia's tug had more force than he expected as she took back what was hers.

From the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Tony returning with an apologetic expression that morphed into delight upon seeing the two of them. He leaned down, braced his hands on his knees, and caught Emilia's attention. “The local bear doctor is informed and promised to take care of things. Teddy will be back to 20/20 vision in no time.” A little softer, he then leaned towards his husband's ear. “Time's up, BB.”

Bruce nodded and rose to his feet, faint relief spurring on his actions. The little girl watched them brush at their clothes and re-button their jackets. Tony leaned in and ran a palm over the child's soft hair, mumbling words Bruce was unable to understand. When he straightened up, Tony's eyes were shining suspiciously. He tried to deflect by sniffing with resolution and putting up a cocky smirk.

“Gotta use the bathroom before we leave. Meet you outside, okay?”

He was gone even as Bruce was still nodding, eyes following his hasty retreat. He then looked down at the child again. At the sudden wariness in her gaze, Bruce tried for a steadfast, soothing smile. “He has a nervous bladder.” Emilia pursed her lips, and while Bruce almost expected her to say something, she remained quiet. In a spontaneous decision, he bent down and brushed the back of his index finger against a plump, warm cheek.

“Bye, Emilia.”

+

On their way home, the streets were even more crowded than before. Tony got rid of his necktie with a yank and a sigh as soon as he had buckled up and leaned back against the headrest. Bruce listened to the way he went into some of his breathing exercises until they were on the freeway en route towards Gotham. “Are you alright?” A hum. “It broke my heart to leave her behind.” Wayne squinted at something in the distance.

“Apart from that?”  
Tony gave a shaky little laugh but kept his gaze straight ahead.  
“Took half a Zoloft this morning. Guess I'm feeling the missing half by now.”

“Why?”

The concern was audible in Bruce's one-syllable question. “Cause I didn't want to feel zoned out today.” Wayne's jaw worked. “I thought you said you were feeling no side effects?” Tony sighed. “Sure don't, but-... it's still different. Whatever. We're home soon, I'll take the other half and relax on the couch for the rest of the evening.” He reached over to slip the fingers of his left hand under Bruce's thigh and slid deeper into the seat.

The remaining drive was spent in quiet reminiscence; each of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maserati GranTurismo:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tqEP4cp5sg&feature=youtu.be&t=54


	103. Chapter 103

Pebbled gravel crunched under Tony's boots as he walked along sheer endless rows of stones until he stopped at the right inscription.

“Mom, dad.”

He bent down to put a new flower arrangement and could not help but notice how neat and tidy the gravesite looked. Bruce apparently had ordered someone to take care of that, and it ultimately made Tony feel bad about not taking him along that day. Since Bruce was by far not getting enough rest as of late, Tony had chosen to let him sleep in on his well-deserved, for once completely free Sunday morning.

Knowing better than to unleash hell for slipping away unnoticed, however, Tony had seen to inform Alfred about his current whereabouts. He stared down at the weathered stones before he pocketed his hands and took in a breath of crisp winter air. That early, the vast graveyard was empty, with mist wafting in between barren tree branches and firs, cloaking the whole scenery into diffuse light.

“So, it's been another year. Funny how time flies - pardon the platitudes. Things are going great. Richard is going to become a cop and vows to be home more often in the future. Jason's actually good at studying now that he does something he really enjoys. It's a good thing Bruce agreed on him getting the apartment in New York, even though I probably won't get the smell of cigarettes out of the furniture anytime soon.”

Something caught his eye and Tony raised his head. In the distance, a few gardeners started working their rakes on fallen leaves littering the aisles. Tony inhaled. “Timmy's planning to go to MIT next year - if he doesn't keep on changing his mind, that is. I'd love him to, since he's super smart, but we'll see. And Damian, well, he's got all the time in the world to find his place – as long as that place isn't at the Gates of Hell.”

His phone gave a soft vibrating hum in his pocket, interrupting his monologue. Tony pulled his right glove off with his teeth and kept it in between them as he unlocked the screen. His face crinkled into a warm smile at the image Bruce had sent him. It was a slanting picture of their bed, respectively his empty side. Bruce's bare arm was stretched across the mattress, fingers splayed out and showing off his wedding band.

Tony was quick to send him a heart emoji back, followed by a text that read 'Back in an hour. Care for a treat?' His husband's reply was a smirk emoji; something that Bruce had only taken up recently. Knowing he had corrupted him into using emojis delighted Tony to no end, and so he added a kiss emoji before pocketing his phone. Sniffing against the cold that made his nose runny, Tony focused back on his parents' graves.  
  
“Bruce and I have grown closer than I thought possible. We've had a few close calls, but they only made us stronger, I think. His company -he keeps on telling me it's our company, but I tell him it's not- anyway, there's a huge project coming up in less than a month, and I hope it is going to make things easier for... for everyone.” With a growing need to get back to his car and drive home, Tony shifted on cold feet.

“Also, last but not least: I am going to be a father. Her name is Emilia, and she is part-Italian. You would've liked that, mom, I'm sure.” He gave a shaky chuckle and palmed his neck, feeling the coarse material of his glove on his skin. “I kinda wish you'd be able to see her, she is amazing – better than anything I ever could've wished for.” He craned his neck to look up into a clouded sky as a lump settled itself in his throat. 

Nevertheless, he squared his shoulders and dipped his chin low with a defiant glint in his eyes. “And if there's one thing I'll make sure of upon raising my daughter, then it's that I am going to love and support her, no matter who or what she decides to become.” His voice had risen but faded within the solitude of the graveyard, unheard.

He returned to the Palisades with a bag filled with almond pains au chocolat, pistachio rolls, muffins, and apple turnovers, only to find his husband still in bed, devoid of clothes underneath the blankets, and casting him the exact same smirk from his text, albeit in person.

They ended up with flaky pastry in between the sheets.

+

Christmas a week later turned out to hold a couple of surprises. Rhodey and Carol sent a season's greetings card which at the same time announced their engagement, sending Tony into a lengthy Skype conference call with his friend who was stationed overseas. They kept on discussing stag night plans until Bruce tore his husband away from the computer to start taking care of decorating the tree like promised.

The Hogans were staying over at Happy's parents, using video call to wish them happy holidays the night before Christmas Eve. Ava sat between her parents, wearing a little felt Santa's Helper hat. It had a bell on top, making her look around in consternation whenever Happy flicked it with a finger. Tony's question what their goddaughter wanted for Christmas was met with an instant request from the 2-year old.

"A pony!"

Stifling a bout of cheerful laughter, Tony bit his bottom lip and glimpsed sideways. "I suppose we could-" Before his husband could reply, Pepper leaned in close, alarmed. "Tony, no!" The call ended with Happy distracting his daughter from pursuing the pony idea further by pulling on her hat, and Pepper wishing them a merry Christmas. Once Tony had flipped the tablet shut, Bruce's countenance was ever the professional.

"We could buy a yearling, but a racehorse is not a traditional investment per se."  
Bruce caught the popcorn thrown his way with ease. Tony watched him put it in his mouth and clicked his tongue.  
"Boo, you corporate baller. If anything, it's gonna be a Shetland pony." 

+

Christmas morning had the family gather around the tree, exchanging gifts. Tim and Richard, with a little contribution from Damian and Jason, had thrown their money together to buy opera tickets for their father, Tony, and Alfred. Pennyworth was visibly touched by the prospect of attending the Met in New York to see Carmen, even though he tried to argue he should not leave his duties unattended. Tony gave a snort.

"I think the Manor can survive one evening without you, Al. Besides, I need you to tell me whatever hoity-toity stuff they're singing about." A gentle expression entered Alfred's weathered face. "There are translations of the libretto available, Master Anthony." Tony's smile never wavered. "Still. You're gonna rock the tux with us next year. Oh lalà." The butler looked at his protege for help. Bruce Wayne just pursed his lips.

The biggest surprise, however, was reserved for Damian, who actually landed flat on his behind once he lifted the lid to the big wrapped box waiting for him under the tree. Inside was a small, pitch-black Labrador-Retriever puppy. His family, who had all been in on the surprise, sat around and watched the animal whimper and sniff at the foreign sensation. Tony sat down next to Damian and gently patted the dog's head.

“He's eight weeks old. I had to defend him high and low against your dad who wanted to get you a frigging behemoth of a dog – come to think about it, I guess it wasn't even a dog, it must've been a cow in disguise.” Standing behind, Bruce crossed his arms and bestowed a stern glance down at his husband. “It was a Great Dane German Shepard mix, and it would have been an appropriate dog for the size of the Manor.”

Damian sat, unmindful of their banter, and held the puppy close in his hands, watching in stunned amazement how it started to nibble and lick at his fingers. His gaze flickered up to his father. “Can I name him?” Wayne Sr. gave a single nod. “Of course.” Tony smacked his lips and raised a finger. “No heretic or occult names!” Damian squinted at the furred ball of puppy in his hands for the longest time.

“Cosmos.”  
Tony nodded with a content smile.  
"That's a good one."

When Damian continued to frown at the bundle in his arms, Jason who was lounging in a nearby wingchair, feet propped up on an upholstered little storage bench, smirked around his eggnog. “What's with that face though? Don't tell me you would've wanted the big-ass dog after all.” Damian's green eyes narrowed to slits. “I cannot take Cosmos to school with me.” His miserable features turned towards Tony who hummed along.

“Well, no, that's a given, but you can be sure we'll take care of him. Plus, you're gonna come to visit every second week.”

“Or I could go attend a local school as of next year.”

Tony's eyes slid up to share a look full of unspoken communication with his husband.

“Aww, baby Dami's such a big softie at heart.”

Tim's cooing voice resulted in Damian's face to warp into a mask of irritation. “Shut up you dimwit! All I'm concerned about is that the new baby does not get to pester Cosmos, because then Cosmos will eat the baby and I am not going to stand for that if it means giving my dog away.” The sound of Richard's and Jason's snorting laughter earned them a feral stare from their youngest, and they were quick to fall silent.

“That's, uhm... I mean, I... cannot fault your logic, but-”

At a loss for words, Tony looked up to Bruce for help and saw his equally bewildered expression. Wayne then reached for another, smaller gift box Damian had not even bothered to open and produced a training leash for puppies. “How about you think this through while taking Cosmos around for a first brief tour of the house?" Damian scrambled to his feet, careful with the animated cargo in his arms, and took the leash.

"But only briefly, because Cosmos needs to get fed so that he grows big and strong."  
Alfred stood up to take two sterling silver bowls Tony handed to him from the box.  
"I am sure we will find a suitable place in the kitchen to set up the feeding station, Master Damian."

The rest of the family watched them leave and went back to unpacking their own gifts. "So, that was a nifty idea." It was unclear whether Jason referred to his present, an out-of-print, 3-volume set of _The Encyclopedia of English Renaissance Literature_ , or the situation at hand. Jason then put his gift aside and watched with glee how his father furrowed his brows at the book Jason gifted him with in return.

"You two can kiss your blissfully quiet home goodbye soon."  
Tony hopped to his feet to take a look at the present in Bruce's hands and laughed out loud upon reading the title.  
"Who said we wanted blissfully quiet anyhow?"

+

Just before everyone settled down for Alfred's big Christmas brunch, Tim was busy giving his new gaming PC a try. Richard was outside with his bike, wearing in his father's and Tony's gift which consisted of a robust leather jacket and a pair of matching gloves. Jason had accompanied him, in need of a smoke, and their conversation veered into the topic of chip tuning as soon as they were out of their father's hearing range.

Tony, who was wearing Jason's other inappropriate gift over his longsleeved Henley, stood and watched Damian take the stairs down into the foyer with cautious, slow steps, always an eye out for a traipsing Cosmos by his side. "How was the reconnaissance mission?" When Damian, face all serious, looked up at him, Tony had an eerie moment of seeing Bruce as a child. "I want to stay here, with Cosmos. He needs me to train him."

With a strong arm, Tony reached out and pulled his son close, joy spreading all over his face. 

"That's by far the best Christmas present you could make us, kiddo." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Jason bought Bruce is this one:  
> https://www.amazon.com/How-Traumatize-Your-Children-Deliberately/dp/1601063091/?tag=dododad-20
> 
> Jason's gift for Tony inspired by this one:  
> https://www.amazon.com/Trophy-Husband-Fathers-T-Shirt-Heather/dp/B00B5TEIJE/?tag=dododad-20


	104. Chapter 104

Tony sat in the first row of the Wayne Tower auditorium, eyes glued to the stage. The beginning of February marked yet another cold, dry, and so far snowless winter day. Almost exactly twelve weeks after their mutual decision, the time had finally come for Bruce Wayne to give a keynote speech on the how and why his company felt compelled to initiate the Iron Legion program, and to officially introduce it to the people of Gotham.

Wayne was dressed in an impeccable suit and tie outfit, hair and beard styled to perfection. His eyes were clear and bright behind their glasses as he spoke about the necessity to lead his hometown into a secure future. An elaborate gesture made his wedding ring flash in the spotlight, and Tony's heart swelled with love and pride. Right before applause filled the hall, their eyes met, and for once, the smile Bruce gave was a real one.

"And now, I would like to invite all of you to an exclusive first demonstration."

+

Outside the venue stood a selection of a dozen drones, waiting for their demonstration in a neat line, their metal hulls gleaming in the company colors of Wayne Enterprises. A vast selection of financial moguls, reporters, and most of Gotham's elite were attending the event and its first demo deployment of the Legion as a highlight. Photographers wrestled behind the safety barrier for the best spots, shouting for attention.

“Mister Wayne! Mister Stark-Wayne! Over here!”

“Mister Fox, to the left, stand a bit closer!”

"Tony, Tony, over here! Give us something!"

Said man slipped on his pair of tinted shades before he threw up a victory sign. When he switched it for a cheeky version of the devil's horns, Bruce's arm around his waist tightened in a subtle motion. "Don't push it." It was said between smiling teeth and Tony was quick to turn and cast him an enraptured glance. The apparent display of affection made the cameras go off into a clicking frenzy. “They know I aim to please, BB.”  
  
He then slipped out of his husband's embrace and reached into the pocket of his suit jacket.  
“My turn.”  
With a tiny earpiece secured in its place, Tony walked over to stand in front of the audience.

“In terms of crime fighting, there's this idea going 'round that you have to choose between being feared or being respected. Some might argue that it's not too much to ask for both, but, we at Wayne Enterprises value respect over fear. With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel of the newly WE Freedom Line - the first AI-controlled system to incorporate our proprietary repulsor technology.”

He let the mandatory round of applause pass while nodding along with a grin that was too charismatic to be taken as arrogant. “They say the best weapon is one you never have to fire. I'd even go further and say if you let these guys off the chain, the bad guys won't even want to come out to play.” More laughter rippled through the crowd. Tony licked his lips, indicated a bow, and swiped an arm towards the lined-up drones.

“So now, for your consideration, the Iron Legion.”

With both hands raised into the air, Tony gave an audible snap of his fingers.

A surge went through the humanoids and their eye slits started glowing bright blue.

_'Iron Legion program initiated. Welcome, Gotham City.'_

At the smooth, electronic female voice, an awed murmur went through the crowd. Tony's smile widened, as did the range of his spread arms. “The drones are running on environmental-friendly ARC-powered energy. And even if the maintenance costs for a whole year of protection are marginal, Wayne Enterprises is going to cover them for an entire 365 days - no hidden agenda whatsoever.”

Over the ruckus of applause, the legionaries went into a choreography. The show included demonstrating various methods of disarming an armed robbery, diffusing an explosive device, and ending a hostage situation without casualties. At some point, a second dozen legionaries ejected from several nondescript boxes made from brushed metal, relieving their predecessors who went into automated dismantling. 

After twenty minutes, the presentation was over, and event personnel ushered everybody back inside the venue. By now, the many rows of retractable seating had given way to transform the auditorium into a spacious area with round bar tables, as well as a large bar and a hot and cold buffet on opposite walls. Waiters were navigating through the crowd with finger food or champagne flutes high up on their trays.

“Amazing how they reacted to everything in sight – I've never seen anything like it!”

Harvey Dent's voice was overly enthusiastic, and Tony gave a nod and shrug that spoke of delight. “Told ya, this is GCPD's next-gen.” He searched and found his husband standing amid a group of people Tony figured were shareholders or board members. The air inside the large venue was considerably warm due to the cold temperatures outside and Tony blew a little air up his face in a vain attempt to cool down.

Dent, unmindful of his company's internal misery kept on prattling about the presentation, and Tony kept on nodding along at the appropriate times. He was just about to dispose of his jacket when a throat got cleared. "My, my. If that isn't the city's new white knight." Both Tony and Harvey Dent swung around at the sultry female voice, thick with an indefinable accent.

Tony fought down an initial fight or flight response at the sight of Talia Al-Ghul in a figure-hugging burgundy dress, her brown hair swept to one side. Dent swallowed and reached out to take the fingers Talia outstretched into his direction, palm facing downward. "I would not go that far, but I am steadily conjuring up a roster worth of the knights of King Arthur's Round Table." He briefly graced Tony with a smile at that.

Talia only gave a feline smile, gaze trained on Dent. “Isn't it funny how the whole city now operates under Wayne Enterprises' mighty thumb? I mean, everywhere you turn, you are bound to stumble across it. Throw a rock and it's going to break a window belonging to anything that's owned by Wayne Enterprises. Correct me if I'm wrong.” Tony cocked his head. “Correction. We don't actually do glass and glazing business.”

He eyed the DA in return who was still gawking at the beautiful woman, oblivious, and thus concluded with a brazen smirk. “Yet. I mean, there's a whole new branch out there just waiting for intuitive window panel surfaces, but that would probably make rock-throwing heaps more expensive.” By now, Tony could feel the sweat soaking his undershirt while his cheeks burned with a flush not only due to the warmth.

Talia gave him a slow, judgmental once-over as she spread a hand-held fan with a sharp flick of her wrist.

“According to Forbes, Bruce Wayne already makes $800,000 an hour. One has to wonder what is the deal with adding to that obscene amount of money?” She got a dark-eyed glare in return. “You probably wouldn't know, but most of the obscene money goes into charitable causes.” Tony made air quotation marks at the word obscene to go with his cheeky tone. Talia's green eyes, enhanced by dramatic khol, narrowed with disgust.

“Like you?”  
In an instant, Tony's whole stance turned to stone.  
“Come again?”

Painted lips stretched into a smile, making Talia look like a python about to lull in a rabbit. “It is safe to say Bruce Wayne's predilections have always been known to be eccentric, but marrying his children's nanny, well-” She looked up at Harvey with a conspirative glint in her eyes and a feminine laugh, hiding behind her silken black fan with oriental patterns in a mock-coy gesture. “- straight out of a movie that promotes hypergamy.”

Trying to keep face, Tony's mouth stretched into a forced saccharine smile. His heart was hammering inside his chest; his eyes, however, were blazing open fire. “If you're playing out the gold digger card, go ahead. I've heard it too often to still annoy me, so don't hold your breath.” Harvey Dent squirmed at the tension around him, glad to wave over the host. “Bruce! Flawless presentation. I'm glad everything worked out well.”

Wayne headed towards the small circle, shoulders squared and his expression deliberately neutral. “Thank you, Harvey. I had no doubts, seeing Tony and his team have outdone themselves.” While he and Talia eyed each other in wary silence, a waiter passed by, and Harvey stopped him to take four flutes filled with champagne from his tray. “A toast, Bruce?” Said billionaire took the glass without hesitation. “To a safer Gotham then.”

With a charming smile, Bruce toasted the small round, even if he felt Tony stiffen next to him. Talia turned to involve Dent into a conversation, so Bruce dragged his husband out of hearing range. As soon as they had rounded a corner, Bruce dunked his drink into a potted plant and disposed of the empty flute on a nearby bar table. “Cannot say I approve of your direct face-off. You know Talia is a dangerous woman.”  
  
Tony slipped his untouched glass next to Bruce's and clenched his fists at his sides.“Which is why I wonder why you're tolerating her presence with every passing minute.” Wayne's gaze was back to scanning the crowd, even if he pretended to be engrossed in their conversation. “While I would like nothing more than to throw her out, it is safer to keep her close.” His husband snarled. “Close like your precious Harvey?”

At the venom pouring from his tongue, Bruce only raised an eyebrow in response. Tony blew out his cheeks. “Sorry, I...- sorry. This whole evening brought me on edge ever since. I wish it was already over and done.” In the blink of an eye, Bruce's gaze turned from combative to concerned. “Did you take your medication today?” A nod, even though Tony kept on gritting his teeth, forcing his breath to stay composed.

Bruce reached out to take one of his hands. “Do you want me to ask Alfred to take you home?” Tony's clammy fingers twitched in between his own. “I'm not leaving you alone inside this shark-infested pool. Just give me a sec.” Both looked over to where Talia still stood in close proximity to the district attorney. Tony grunted. “50 bucks she's gonna plant doubts in his head about your buddy-buddy chumminess.”

The Gothamite allowed his usual frown to creep through. “Harvey is the city's DA, he should be immune to any of her charms.” Tony's smirk became sharp-edged. “Hopefully more immune than you.” Bruce looked askance at him and slowly let go of his hand. “That was unnecessary.” With a deep intake and immediate exhale of breath, Tony covered his eyes with his palms, rubbing at his skin. “Yeah, sorry. Not thinking straight here.”

A slight tremor went through his hands, and Bruce reached out to take them off of his face. “We are going home now, just let me say goodbye to Harvey and the Commissioner.” He tried for a steadfast expression upon seeing the misery in his husband's expression and ran his thumbs over the back of Tony's knuckles in soothing circles. “Why don't you already go and get the car? Wait inside, I'll be with you in less than five.”

The smile he got in return was shaky, but brave. “Sure, take your time.” Once he felt him reach for the keys to the Lamborghini, Bruce stopped him before he could draw away. His right hand came up to cup Tony's neck, and the billionaire leaned in for a gentle kiss to his lips, fingers caressing the skin around his husband's ear and jaw.

“I'll be quick.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's current look inspired by this (minus the glasses, sadly):  
> http://baleheadsblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/human-rights-christian-bale-6.jpg  
> http://baleheadsblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/human-rights-christian-bale-2.jpg
> 
> Parts of Tony's speech are taken/modified from the original IM1 script


	105. Chapter 105

Bruce managed to make his final round through the mingling crowd with a winsome smile and a standard reply for everybody trying to lure him into a meaningless conversation. He was relieved to find Dent solely in the company of Commissioner Gordon. Harvey extended an arm and pulled him into their midst. "Come on, Bruce, have another drink with us. Or me, rather, seeing Gordon here keeps on saying he is on duty."

Wayne and the police officer shared a look before Bruce gave an apologetic, lopsided smile. "Afraid not, Harvey, I will have to leave the stage to you. Tony is already waiting in the car, we have another commitment." Gordon inclined his head in understanding. "Thank you for the instructions to the Legion's operating system. My people will be able to know what to look for, even though the system's pretty much independent."

They shook hands before Bruce hurried towards the auditorium's elevators over in the foyer. Seeing most people were still inside the venue, he did not have to wait too long. Just before the doors could close, a slender hand reached in between the light barrier and caused them to open up again. "Your killing machines have come a long way.” Talia's words were spoken in low, guttural Arabic as she stepped inside the brightly-lit cabin.

Bruce steeled his features and pressed the button for the basement. “You are delusional.” His grunted reply earned him an unwavering, cold gaze. “I can recognize what crushed my father's empire. You may have pulled the wool over this city's eyes, but you forgot I know all about you, Beloved. All about your dark secret. It would be truly a shame if the people of Gotham knew whom they call their savior.”

He forced his jaw to unclench as the elevator dinged open and a whiff of basement air streamed inside. “The Iron Legion has been created with peace and order in mind. Something which I have always stood for. Striven for. Something which you should also aspire upon, with your new-found freedom. Never forget why you were given a second chance.” That time, a shrill laugh tore from her throat, almost making him wince.

“I think it shall remain to be seen just who truly is delusional, Beloved.”

With a final piercing glare, Bruce sidestepped her and marched out, steps resounding on concrete floors. Talia's eyes followed him over to where his Lamborghini stood in the first row of the executive area; headlights dimmed and a dark silhouette on the passenger seat. When Bruce pulled the driver's door open, he glanced back and found her gone. The elevator doors had already closed and the numbers were going up.

"Do I need to check your collar for lipstick stains?"

Tony sounded tired; his attempt at humor lacking true panache. Wayne buckled up and pressed the ignition button. "No, you don't." There was an edge to his voice that made Tony fall silent. The engine's loud roar echoed through the vast garage before its owner steered it towards the exit. As soon as the gateway opened, Bruce put his foot down and let the sports car surge up the ramp with more velocity than necessary.

Outside, it was still bright although the sun stood low. Seeing the streets were fairly empty in the afternoon, Bruce gave into his underlying anger and sped ahead onto the freeway. They did not speak another word for about ten minutes until a quiet mumble filled the air. "Stop the car." Bruce frowned and looked over at his husband. "What?" Tony's eyes were squeezed shut; his right hand wrapped tight around the door handle.  
  
"Stop the car NOW, I gotta-"

Without hesitation, Bruce glimpsed into the rearview mirror and pulled up on a barren patch of ground next to the road. In a split second, Tony had yanked the door up and started to retch violently. Worry and concern marred Bruce's face as he killed the engine and put a hand on his heaving back. "Easy, just breathe. It's alright, don't fight it." He held onto the fabric of Tony's jacket as if to prevent him from taking a header.

After thirty seconds, Tony's vomiting had died down to dry-heaving. He pushed himself back into his seat and fumbled around for the glovebox. A piece of fabric got pushed into his hand, one that he recognized as Bruce's pocket square. "We will be home in twenty minutes unless you want me to get you a bottle of water from somewhere?" Eyes closed, Tony's gave a weak, negating shake of the head. "Home's fine."

Bruce regarded him for a few silent moments, gauging whether it was safe to drive on or not. It made Tony crack open an eye. "Feels like there's nothing left to soil the upholstery with. Just go." Wayne pressed his lips together until they were nothing but a thin, grim line. He brought the car back to life and pulled back into traffic. He made sure to avoid any jerky passing maneuvers and stayed within speed limits.

"She won't come between us. Ever again."   
In the semi-dark, shadows created sharp angles on Bruce's face.  
"I'll make sure of that."

+

Bruce's 34th birthday two weeks after the introductory event was a quiet affair.

Seeing the Legion had required a lot of public outings and functions, both of them were tired and weary of any big events. Tony was only too glad to comply with his husband's wish to stay at home and spend a leisure day sleeping in. With their sons out and busy on a regular weekday, they treated themselves to a late breakfast, a mutual workout followed by a sauna session, and languid sex until far into the afternoon.

As soon as their rumbling stomachs demanded to be replenished after shedding a lot of calories, they wandered down into the dining room. At the sight of the black and white birthday cake with an unmistakable dark knight silhouette made from frosting atop of it, Tony almost squealed in delight. "There it is! And just like I imagined it to look like." His husband almost gaped in horror. "You ordered this? To be delivered here?"

Tony walked around the cake to inspect its vivid details and shook his head. "I had help in covering my tracks. Just goes to show that you're a favorite with the confectioners nationwide." He then made a gallant sweep across the sugary masterpiece. "But, to cover _your_ tracks, you need to eat fast. Or at least save a plate from the hungry armada of adolescent males who are going to invade this house in, oh about an hour I guess."

With that, he dipped his index finger in, scooped up a fair amount of buttercream frosting, and pointed it at his husband with a lewd grin. Bruce's eyes held a certain predatory glint when he opened his mouth to suck the digit clean with slow, deliberate movements and a swirling tongue. Tony gave a low whistle and swallowed. "Maybe we should get back upstairs, take some cake along... we've still got time-"

The door to the kitchen opened wide, revealing a tense-looking Alfred.  
“Sirs, there is an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention.”  
They followed his hurried steps into the nearby room from which the sound of a television could be heard.

'IRON LEGION MALFUNCTION – DRONES WREAK HAVOC OVER GOTHAM – WAYNE ENTERPRISES' PROJECT DESTROYS PARTS OF WEST CHELSEA HILL'

Standing in the middle of the room, Tony and Bruce shared a look of horror.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The birthday cake is roughly inspired by this awesome design:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e3/02/33/e30233065b6d75ef8c4e23b0dfc9a23a--knight-cake-batman-cakes.jpg


	106. Chapter 106

The emergency meeting at Wayne Tower took place before the regular opening hours.

Lucius Fox, chin and cheeks covered in a slight sheen of gray stubble, was quietly nursing his first cup of coffee. Across from him, Bruce Wayne sat and scowled out into the still darkened skies of Gotham. The sun was not supposed to rise for the next hour, leaving them bathed in the harsh, artificial lights from above. “At least a hundred are homeless, several are still missing, vast parts of West Chelsea Hill have been destroyed.”

Wayne's long fingers started to dig into the leather covered armrest. “What about our disaster relief contractors?” A woman with black hair and glasses to his left leaned forward. “Already informed and engaged to start any necessary repairing, reinforcing and rebuilding measures.” Bruce acknowledged her with a grim nod. “I want Wayne Enterprises to give out an additional $ 1.5 million.” Fox nodded as their eyes met.

“Consider it done, Bruce. However, the sharks have smelled blood in the water.”

The silence that followed his statement was too stifling for Tony to bear. He had been sitting next to his husband, listening along with dulled eyes. When he leaned forward, the chair under him responding with a soft creak. “Meaning what?” Bruce's toneless voice answered him before Fox could. “A multi-million dollar lawsuit.” Wayne then pressed his lips together tight. “We need to assemble a team of lawyers.” He looked at Fox.

“They need to be prepared when I am going to testify in court.”  
  
Even as Fox reassured him the elite of Wayne Legal was going to deal with the topic at hand, Bruce's words kept on revolving inside Tony's head.

When. Not if.

+

Once they were alone, walking the executive corridor over to Bruce's office, Tony put a hand on his husband's arm and stopped his swift, mechanic stride. “You're not alone in this, BB.” Hazel eyes narrowed behind the pair of glasses Bruce still wore for the public. “I don't want you to become involved more than necessary.” Tony gave a bleak laugh. “I'm the lead engineer, of course they're gonna ream me another one.”

“Which is why you will stay out of this as good as possible.”

It was spoken through gritted teeth, and Bruce almost punched the massive doors to his office open with more force than necessary. His assistant was not yet in, the massive clock above reading 05:42. Tony kept a hold on the door frame to avoid it slamming into his face. “Noble thought, Mister W, but I am not going to shrink back and let you get eaten alive by the pack of bloodthirsty hounds Dent's gonna let off the chain.”

He watched his broad-shouldered husband stalk over to his tidy desk. Bruce then slammed both palms onto the mahogany with a dull sound. It prompted Tony to sigh and shut the doors with a soft click. “Especially not when it's all my fault anyhow.” From where Bruce still stood hunched over, breathing deep, he turned his around to look over his shoulder with a wary expression. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I should've foreseen things like that. And -believe me, BB- I thought I had; building the most reliable system there is, running the whole gamut of failsafes to avoid it going haywire, but in the end, I fucked up and failed you, and...-” Tony started to babble and pace. Bruce straightened up, took off his glasses, and crossed the distance over to him, blocking his path. By now, nothing on his face indicated any kind of predicament.

“If anything, I am responsible for pressuring you into the release.”

Upon the misery etched deep into his husband's features, Bruce gently took him by the shoulders and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Things will work out alright. Harvey has always been in favor of me. Us.” Tony's eyes narrowed, but whatever he wanted to blurt out died down in a sneer.

“Guess we'll find out.”

+

“All rise.”

Upon the bailiff's command, Bruce and Tony rose to their feet, as did their lawyers and the people surrounding Harvey Dent. Judge Janet Surillo entered the courtroom soon after, and the bailiff told everyone to be seated again. Tony's thumb remained caressing the back of his husband's hand under the table for as long as the jury was sworn in. Among the sea of faces, they recognized Commissioner Gordon and his team.

“Calling the case of the people of Gotham City versus Bruce Wayne.”

Harvey Dent stood up and walked into the center of the room, hands coming to life as he started to speak.

“Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: The defendant has been charged with the crime of creating a public sentinel program which has turned into a public threat and caused the destruction of parts of West Chelsea Hill as well as the hospitalization of twelve citizens. I have come to know Mister Wayne as the backbone of this city – a true philanthropist with a lot of business acumen. However, responsibility needs to be taken.”

Once he was sure his words had sunken in, Dent made a generous gesture towards the defendant's table. Keeping a straight face, the leading lawyer of Wayne Enterprises' legal team stood up to give his opening statement. “Mister Wayne aims to fully cooperate with the official investigation of this episode. He is deeply affected and has already agreed to offer extensive help to the victims of this unfortunate incident."

He, too, took a pause for effect before addressing the jury and the judge again. "Gotham always had a dark past, and Mister Wayne and his company want nothing more than to turn it into a bright future once again." As soon as all parties were seated, the judge gave the floor to Dent, who went and called Commissioner Gordon. After a brief spiel about Gordon's opinion on the Iron Legion, Dent asked the crucial question. 

"Is it possible for you or your staff to have operated the system wrong, leading to its malfunction?"

Professional as expected, Gordon denied, saying he got thorough instructions from Wayne Enterprises. The DA nodded along, having anticipated his answer. Seeing the Wayne Enterprises lawyer kept his questions to the Commissioner brief and focused on stressing the good relations between the GCPD and the company, Dent did as he had already been expected to by the Wayne legal team.

“The people call Mister Bruce Wayne.”

With squared shoulders, Bruce got to his feet and walked up to where he was sworn in. He and Dent shared a noncommittal smile before the district attorney began asking questions. Eventually, they cut to the chase. “Mister Wayne, when you first initiated the Iron Legion program, what motives did you have in mind?” Bruce inclined his head. “The Iron Legion was always meant to be a defensive preemptive measure against rising crime.”

“How do you explain the easiness with which the system could be turned into a lethal weapon?”

Before he could answer, there was a shuffle. “Objection, your Honor. As the owner and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Mister Wayne is not responsible for the technical details of his company's inventions.” Bruce eyed his lawyer who had risen with an imperturbable expression. Judge Surillo nodded. “Objection sustained. Mister Dent, do you have any other questions?” Harvey's eyes darted from the composed billionaire over to the judge.

“No, your Honor.”  
Surillo turned towards Bruce.  
“The witness is excused. The prosecution may call in the next witness.”  
  
Harvey Dent wet his lips just as Bruce stepped down from the stand.

“The people call Mister Stark-Wayne.”

On autopilot, Tony rose from his chair, fumbled the first of his jacket buttons shut, and went to get sworn in. His voice was firm upon stating his full name, but when he took a seat, his whole posture started to change. Bruce immediately noticed and never took his eyes off of him, fists resting on his thighs under the table. “So, Mister Stark-Wayne, you are Wayne Enterprises' leading designer and the head of its R&D department?”

“Yessir.”

Dent gave a meager smirk. “No need for military rigor, just answer accordingly.” Tony frowned to himself but eventually nodded. “Yes, I am.” Dent mimicked his nod. “Has it ever occurred to you that you have created a mass-murdering instrument?” Tony swallowed hard, his eyes darting over to Bruce's tense physique. “N-no! I mean, every system has a potential weak spot, but I-... I've created special failsafe measures!”

“So you admit to releasing a potentially flawed, militaristic surveillance system upon Gotham?”

The Wayne Enterprises' lawyer started to rise from his chair. “Objection, your Honor. The court is antagonizing the witness in order to provoke a response.” Judge Surillo threw him a brief look over the rim of her glasses. “Objection overruled. Mister Stark, please answer the question.” Twisting his fingers into one another, Tony kept on stealing glances at his husband. “No! I mean I'd never- I... I care for this city, okay?!”

Bruce, who had been watching his ashen complexion with gritted teeth for the longest time, eventually spoke a few hushed words with their lawyer. The latter seemed unhappy but sighed and rose to his feet. “Your Honor, my client is pleading guilty. Mister Wayne is ready to take on the consequences in favor of the court recognizing this as a mitigating factor.” A quiet murmur echoed through the rows of jury members.

Tony's head shot up and he cast his emotionless husband a wild, almost frantic look. Harvey Dent, also caught by surprise, ran a hand through his hair and exhaled loud enough for the jury to hear. “No further questions, your Honor.” Judge Surillo took a final, wandering glance around the room before she raised and dropped her gavel. “Twenty-minute break.” The crowd began to shuffle as Tony all but stumbled back to their table.  
  
“I need fresh air.”  
His ghostly-white pallor prompted Bruce to reach out and take his hand.  
“Of course.”

+

Outside, on a park bench across city hall, Tony sunk down, elbows on his thighs, and rubbed his face between his palms for a few moments. “Goddammit all to hell. I fucked it up, I'm sorry.” Bruce who had taken a seat next to him put an arm around his hunched shoulders. “You did nothing wrong. I am sorry you have to go through this.” Once Tony raised his head, his eyes were brimming with excess liquid.

“Oh, God. They are not going to allow her to come live with us.”

Bruce stopped running his hand down his back.

“What?”

“Emilia. The agency will withdraw from the contract because we are not a stable household for her to grow up in. She'll end up back at the foster care, only because I made a fucking stupid mistake, and--” Tony worked himself up until he was struggling for breath, leg twitching to ward off some of the adrenaline flooding his body. He slumped forward again and buried his face in his palms, respiration becoming erratic.

“Tony. Tony, stop. Breathe in deep. Easy.”

Upon seeing he was not getting through, Bruce stood up to kneel in front of him and clasped him by the upper arms. “Nothing like that is going to happen. I promise.” A shaky laugh could be heard. "How can you be so sure?" His husband's eyes turned brittle for a fleeting moment. "Because I am Bruce Wayne. And I am willing to make use of this advantage if it means to solve the current situation as smooth as possible."

Eventually, the heaving of Tony's whole body died down to regular intakes of breath. Wary, he then glimpsed at the serious face inches from his. "Corporate Overlord Syndrome?" His voice was small but teasing. The Gothamite responded with a lopsided smirk. "Comes with the territory." Gravel crunched under his shoes as he straightened up and extended a hand. “Think you can make it through the rest of the trial?”  
  
Tony's smile was forced but it was there; strong and unwavering at its base.

"Gonna give it all I've got." He took the offered hand and gave a squeeze. "And then some."

 


	107. Chapter 107

When they walked back into the courthouse, Tony wanted to use the restrooms, and Bruce did the same. Outside in the foyer, they ran into Dent and his entourage. Upon seeing them, the DA gave a lopsided smirk and sought Wayne's gaze. “Bruce, I hope you know this is nothing personal. I need to speak for all the citizens of Gotham.” Wayne tried for a halfway honest smile. “I understand, Harvey. You're just doing your job.”  
  
Dent nodded and briefly looked at Tony who stared back with a blank expression. They sized each other up for the longest time until Dent got distracted by one of his assistants who handed him a coffee to go. With a minuscule tilt of his head, Dent put the cup to his lips. “I wish it was different.” He then was ushered onward, and Bruce reinforced his grip on the cold hand in his when he heard Tony mumble something foul.

Right after everyone had taken their seats again, the head juror – a man in his early fifties with thinning blonde hair and a crooked nose- walked up to the judge's bench. He and the judge spoke a few words, then Judge Surillo nodded at him and turned to the courtroom to speak out loud. “The jury cannot reach a unanimous decision.” A commotion erupted, silenced only by the sound of a gavel on wood until the room was quiet.

“I hereby declare a mistrial. Mister Dent, your office is to decide if you want to have another trial or not.”

Even as his assistant spoke to him, Dent's eyes flew over to meet Bruce's calm, bespectacled ones. “Your honor, I repeat my previous statement. Mister Wayne is one of the pillars this city is founded upon. We all benefited from his generosity and his husband's technological marvel in the past. With regards to the Iron Legion program out of commission, and the heavy fine Mister Wayne has agreed upon, I do not wish for another trial.”

Judge Surillo inclined her head. “Regarding the mitigating factor that the defendant has pleaded guilty, the jury is thanked and excused. The court is adjourned.” The gavel slammed down upon the wooden desk one final time and shuffling erupted as people rose and headed for the exit. Their lawyers spoke a few words with Bruce before they went to converse with the jury members and Dent's legal team.

Numb at the sudden turn of events, Tony all but startled when Bruce's hand appeared on his thigh.  
There was a slight flush to Wayne's otherwise stoic countenance.  
“Alfred is waiting outside. Let's go home.”

+

Even if the case had been less of a disastrous affair than it might have become, the GCPD was forced to revoke their rather short-lived cooperation with Wayne Enterprises. The Legion boxes, placed at nearly every strategic landmark in the city, got sealed and its deploying program erased from the GCPD servers. The Commissioner, following Dent's orders, was more than unhappy. “A frigging shame if you ask me.”

Jim Gordon gestured along with his smoldering cigarette. “I tried to talk some sense into them, seeing how run-down we are on federal funds, but-” The rest of his sentence got lost in a gust of bluish smoke. Next to him, Bruce Wayne shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his woolen coat. It was already late-March, but the temperatures in Gotham were still below average, leaving its citizens to seek shelter from the cold.

“I am sorry, Commissioner. For putting you in this position, and even more for not being able to keep word.”

James Gordon blinked owlishly at him even as his thick glasses became obscured by a slight drizzle that had set in. “No hard feelings, son. I never told you before, but I prefer you and your man's way of running business to that smarmy Luthor.” Bruce's right hand twitched on its own accord inside its pocket. “Luthor?” Gordon dropped the remains of his cigarette onto the GCPD's rooftop and crushed its stub under his heel.

“From what I've heard, Dent is already negotiating with LexCorp. That guy's been trying to get a foot in the door all the way from Metropolis ever since the trial became public. Heard he's dished out quite a sum to help with rebuilding measures here in Gotham. He even lets the major work with his own equipment and staff.” Bruce adjusted his own glasses, allowing his public persona to look as puzzled as he, for once, felt.

“I didn't know about that.”

Gordon took off his glasses to rub a finger over one of his eyelids before he rubbed the lenses clean with a sleeve of his trench coat and put them back on. “Kinda flew under the radar for the longest time, which -for all I know- was Dent's idea.” Something in Bruce twisted upon hearing about Harvey going behind his back, but he managed to keep his face neutral. “Lex Luthor does not have Gotham's best intentions at heart.”

Gordon nodded along, also stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, and hunched his shoulders against another sharp gust of wind. “Yeah, no kidding. Guy came 'round the major's office last week. Gave a pompous speech about the risks of electronic blade-outs, space weather hazards, the shifting range of pathogens, and other weird things. Riled people up for nothing other than convincing them to buy into LexCorp.”

Bruce returned to the Manor with a feeling of rage and helplessness churning in his guts; wanting nothing more to give into the steadily growing need to head over to Metropolis and dangle his business rival from the window of his penthouse office. Furious but unable to do a thing about it, the Gothamite headed straight for his hidden lair instead. Down in the murky cave, the sleek shape of the Deployer was the first thing greeting him.

It was hoisted up on the multi-purpose platform, beak-like hood open for apparently intensive maintenance. However, Tony was nowhere to be seen, and so Bruce strode into the cave's bleak changing area, feeling a distinctive need to shed his current business suit for something else. Once he exited, dressed in sleek black tactical wear, Alfred's lone figure greeted him; standing across from him, close to the supercomputer.

Their eyes met and Bruce felt like he was seven again and caught with a hand in the cookie jar atop the shelf.

“Are you going out for an evening run, Sir?”

“No.”

The butler gave an incline of the head that made it clear he had anticipated said answer. “I see. However, your outerwear appears to be too extensive for your usual exertions in the weight room.” Bruce's previous irritation returned, and with a vengeance. “I am not going to work out, Alfred.” His tone was snippy, causing the older man to cock his head. “Do enlighten me then, Master Bruce, why I find you moping down here.”

“We have tried and failed to use other means. The city needs the B-”

“No.”

Bruce looked up, baffled at the unusual backtalk.

“Excuse me?”

“The Batman is dead and gone.”

“This is not upon you to decide, Alfred.”

Bruce's words were low and had a dangerous undertone. The butler still took up a firm stance of defiance. “It is if you plan on returning to your crusades.” He pointed upward. “This house is going to be the home of a young child in the near future. The last thing your daughter needs is her father leading a vigilante's life. Again.” The Gothamite's eyes narrowed, though Pennyworth did not budge an inch. Eventually, Bruce snorted.

“Here's where you're wrong. They are gunning for me, Alfred.”

"They, Sir?"

Bruce gritted his teeth and formed a fist with his right hand.

"Talia. Luthor. And if they have declared war on me, I will prevent them from doing any more harm.”

Alfred bestowed a very flat look upon him. “You are justifying your need for thrill-seeking with unfounded theories.” Bruce cast him a scowl which would make most people back into a corner. “I don't need permission from you to protect my family.” Pennyworth's blue eyes drilled into him, hardened like never before. "You and your indomitable will are going to drag innocent people into this quest for revenge, Master Bruce."

Wayne's balled fist connected hard with the nearest surface, making the console rattle. "This is NOT about revenge, it's about justice!" Upon his outburst, Alfred's gaze filled with disappointment and apprehension. "Do know this, Sir - I cannot and will not be a part of your self-destructive behavior if you choose to rivet back to your old ways. Not anymore.” Anger rose from below the surface of Bruce's unhinged state of mind.  
  
“I have never pegged you to be a coward, Alfred, but I guess things change at an old age.”

The slap came out of nowhere.

It did not carry a lot of force but echoed through the cave, leaving a deathly silence behind. A flicker of shock ran over the butler's face and he took a step back. His hand was trembling as he dropped it to his chest. “In all those 34 years, I have never stooped so low as to lay a hand on you. Never once.” His voice was unsteady and laced with heavy breathing. “But if you cannot see reason now, this is where our paths will have to divide.”

From where he stood with gritted teeth and let the aftermath of what had happened wash over him, Bruce Wayne then raised his head and squared his shoulders. A cold and distant expression lay in his eyes, his jaw set at a rebellious angle. “You made your point and I made mine. Feel free to leave.” He sidestepped him and walked towards the Deployer. Behind him, Alfred audibly struggled for breath. “Master Bruce-”

It neither made the Gothamite stop walking nor made him turn around to see his butler leave the cave.

+

When footsteps echoed through the vast area, Bruce was sitting high up in the Deployer's pilot seat. He had discovered Tony had started to install a Jarvis-patch into the aircraft and intercepted the uploading process to add alternations to the Deployer's communication module. While Bruce did not mind the witty AI in the cave, he wanted a factual approach for any vehicle bound to become engaged in combat activities.

“BB?”

Tony's voice wafted over to him. In response, Bruce pressed a button to which the canopy of the Deployer's pilot cabin opened with a soft, hydraulic hiss. It made Tony crane his neck, arms akimbo. “There you are. I didn't get to finish the OS installation because Damian made me watch his training with Cosmos. Sit works. Well, almost.” All glum, Wayne slipped a chip into a port and pressed a combination of switches.

“All done. I've taken care of the rest.”

As if on cue, the Deployer's giant landing flaps whirred into an automatic gear control movement.

_'Targeting system updated. Re-synchronization initiated.'_

Standing below, Tony pulled a face at the monotone, computerized voice. “Oh, come on. That sounds super lame.” He watched how Bruce climbed down the ladder attached to the cockpit and graced him with a morose look. “You mean mission-appropriate.” It was obstinate and prompted Tony to arch his brow at his husband's broad, retreating back. “Geez, looks like someone's had a venti cup of extra miserable today.”  
  
Bruce threw himself into his chair and brought the supercomputer to life. “Alfred and I had a fallout.” Tony walked up to him until he was able to look at his profile. “So there won't be any chocolate chip cookies after dinner? Damn you, BB. Go and apologize for whatever you've done.” Bruce reached up to rub at his cheek. “It's not that easy.” He refrained from meeting Tony's gaze, his own face illuminated by the screen. Tony frowned.

“But-”

“I have work to do.”

+

At some point, Tony headed back upstairs, in dire need of a hot tea after the coldness of the cave. He found the butler in the kitchen, sorting clean cutlery from the dishwasher into the respective drawers. “Hey, Al. I tried my best, but you know him.” Instead of Pennyworth's usual dignified quips, there was silence. Tony eyed his uniformed back. “Al?” The butler lowered his hands, dishtowel in them, and turned to face him.

“I have crossed a line today, Master Anthony.”

His expression was grave, to the point of desolate. Tony leaned against the counter, electric kettle forgotten. “What happened? Bruce didn't say.” Alfred used the clean dishtowel to dry his fingers and Tony saw how his hands shook. “I raised my hand against the boy I have brought up. It has never happened before and I feel I have failed him.” Neither man spoke for a while. Eventually, Tony blew out his cheeks.

“Whew, okay, that's heavy stuff. I mean, I'm more concerned about your hand than his jaw of steel, but-”

The older man slung the towel around the oven handle. From that angle, the kitchen lights emphasized wrinkles from decades of hardship all over his face. Alfred then straightened up with a small groan. "Do not worry about me, Sir, I shall be fine. It is him I am worried about. I guess I should be used to that by now, but somehow, I am not." Tony watched him give the clean kitchen a final, almost sad, assessing glance.

"Give his temper a day or two to cool down. That whole flustercuck of a trial unsettled him more than he'd ever admit."  
Pennyworth inclined his head, a soft smile playing upon his lips.  
"Thank you, Master Anthony. I am truly glad destiny brought you upon our doorstep that one day."

He then excused himself to turn in, and Tony wished him a good night before rummaging through an armada of colorful tea storage cans lined up on the shelf. Upon exiting the kitchen, mug in hand, Tony almost collided with a sleep-drunken Damian. “Whoa, hey, all zombies should be rotting in their graves by now. Have you looked at the time, Undertaker Jr?” Green eyes fixated him in the dim light of the corridor.

“Why are father and Alfred not speaking to each other?”

Tony put his free hand on his hip with a rebuking expression. “Why are you eavesdropping?” Damian stared back, unperturbed. “I was not. I just happened to be here.” At his blatant lie, Tony threw him a pointed look. “They had a little disagreement about certain things." Damian's dark brows furrowed. “Because of me? Or Cosmos?” A tsking sound escaped Tony's lips. “No, hey, what is that talk? Course not.”

He then put his arm around small shoulders and propelled his son upstairs.

“Off to bed with you. Tomorrow's fencing and I know you wanna be on top of your game if you get to stab someone.”

 


	108. Chapter 108

Something scratched at the door to his office from the outside, and Bruce raised his head. The billionaire had chosen to stay at home, trying to work in peace at the process metrics for WE's new fiscal year. The scratching continued, combined with a high-pitched whine, and Bruce saved his latest document before he rose with a sigh. Stiff from a prolonged period of sitting, he stretched his back and went to open the door.

Without further ado, Cosmos traipsed along, wedging himself between Bruce's legs into his office, sniffing around. “Damian is not here.” Feeling awkward talking to a puppy, Bruce cleared his throat and walked over to the windows. It had started drizzling, dotting the windowpanes with rain. Bruce's eyes fell on a silver tray that had been put there in his absence. It was still untouched, the tea inside the fine china pot most likely cold.

Wayne sighed.

Tony had tried to mediate between them, but sadly to no avail. Avoiding each other at all costs seemed the best option, at least according to Bruce.

It was easier that way, especially when Tony was not around.

The GCPD had finally given out the official reports on the case, and Tony had been able to receive some of his destroyed tech. Determined to look into it, he thus was spending hours in his lab with his team of engineers, trying to figure out the problem behind the malfunctioning and the reasons for the Legion's fail. Wayne was about to go back to his studies when he spotted a lone figure staggering down the driveway.

“ALFRED!”

Uncaring about the rain, Bruce sprinted down the stairs and raced outside. By that time, Pennyworth had arrived at the bottom of the huge stairs but had sunken down in front. His uniform was soaked, palms smeared with dirt from the ground, and he was clutching at his arm. Bruce's heart started to race hard and fast. “Alfred - what happened? Where is Damian?” When the butler raised his head, a trail of red ran down his temple.  
  
“She... she took him, it all went so fast, I--.”

Alfred continued to mumble unintelligible things as Bruce reached down to bodily pick him up and helped him inside the Manor, over to the nearest couch in the front parlor. Pennyworth, still caught up in shock, immediately tried to get back to his feet but a hand on his shoulder prevented him from it. “Take it easy, Alfred. I need to make sure you have not sustained any bigger injuries.”

Bruce left him for a short bit, and when he returned, equipped with a first-aid kit and some dry towels, Cosmos sat whimpering in the doorway, sensing trouble. Careful, Wayne set out to clean the scraped palms of his longtime confidant with antiseptics and sterile bandages. The butler looked down at the wailing puppy and reached out with a shaking hand to pet him. Once he glanced up, his eyes were red-rimmed.

“Forgive me, Master Bruce, I never thought it would come to this.”

“Hush now, this was not your fault. I need to monitor you in the cave. Can you walk?”

Not waiting for an answer, Bruce helped him up and supported most of his weight as they made their way into the elevator to the cave. As soon as Alfred was stretched out on the medical bay's gurney and Jarvis ran his scanners, the billionaire called his husband. All Bruce got was a busy sign, leaving him even more apprehensive. Before he could ask Jarvis to locate Tony, the AI presented him with the med scan results.

“Mister Pennyworth suffered a minor concussion, several abrasions on his hands and knees, and a distal biceps tendon injury that appears to be partial and no rupture. He needs to rest and recuperate for the next 12 hours. Also, there is an incoming call on your landline from a blocked number.” Bruce's jaw tightened. “Put it through. On speakers.” He turned away from the gurney and stormed towards the mainframe of the cave.

“You must be getting slow, Beloved. I expected your call half an hour ago.”

Upon hearing the familiar voice, Bruce leaned forward on the console of the computer, snarling at the dark screens.

“Where is he?”

“Back where he belongs.”

Wayne raised his head. There was fire in his gaze.

“What have you done?”

“Considered you a failure, Beloved. I will take care of our son from now on, as it was meant to be.”

Bruce's hands curled into tight fists.

“I am going to stop you, no matter what it takes.”

She tutted with audible malice.

“The second phase of my plan has already begun. By the time you're going to realize its extent, I am long gone.”

Without further explanation, the line went dead. While Bruce immediately started working on backtracking the source, Jarvis' voice module echoed through the cave. “Sir? A bombing has just occurred at Blackgate Prison.” Bruce watched the screens of his mainframe fill with TV channels and their breaking news, including blurry helicopter live-footage. “It seems at least 95 % of all inmates have already escaped the facility.”

Eyes darting from screen to screen, Bruce felt cold sweat break out and run down his back.

“Where is Tony? Call Tony!”  
The audible dialing resounded through the air, only to encounter a busy line. Bruce gritted his teeth.  
“Locate his phone and keep trying.”

On the main screen, Channel 9 now showed a massive man with a brutal apparatus over his mouth appearing in front of a jittery camera.

“This is a special message to the masked man who claimed to be this city's defender. I know you are watching this, and I want you to know that I am going to enjoy tearing your city apart. There is no way to stop this, but I will grant you a try. And I will enjoy crushing every bone in your body as you do. Come and find me and fight, or your identity will be revealed.” Once the stream ended, the channel was left with nothing but static.

Wayne's eyes traveled over to where Jarvis still had Tony's number on redial and kept on trying to reach his mobile. “Jarvis? Draw up another secured line and call Richard.” That time, the connection loaded in seconds, and the professional but still worried-sounding voice of his son was in his ear. “Dad. Was just about to call you.” Bruce pressed a button left to him on the console. “Go pick up Tim and head for Jason's apartment.”

“Okay, but what about you? Blackgate's been bombed, there's chaos on the streets!”

“Leave that to me. Get Tim and get in touch with Jason immediately.”

“... I will. Stay safe, dad.”

After they had hung up on each other, Bruce took a moment to lower his head and calm his erratic thoughts and heartbeat. Remembering his injured butler, he inhaled and strode back up to the med bay. Alfred was still far too pale but had remained on the gurney. His protege lifted the head part just enough for him to come to rest in a propped up position. While Bruce reached out to inspect his elbow, a hand landed on his.

“I was wrong, Master Bruce. You need to stop this monster.”

At the love and misery in Pennyworth's gaze, the billionaire swallowed and frowned.

"Alfred, I-"

A dial tone echoed through the cave, followed by a familiar voice.

“BB, hi. You called?”

Bruce straightened up and raised his head at the reverberating sound.

“Tony! Where are you?”

“At the Tower, lab to be precise. Bad connection down here, you should do something ab-”

“Listen to me: Talia took Damian. She had help from someone who went and released all inmates from Blackgate Prison.” Silence over the line for a few seconds, then Tony took an audible breath. “What about the boys? Are they in safety?” Bruce told him about his precaution measures, which Tony acknowledged with a hum of agreement. “I'm coming home immediately.” Wayne nodded though his husband could not see him. 

“Be alert on your way back.”

No sooner than they had hung up, Bruce's private mobile rang, and he was quick to press it to his ear.

"Yes?"

A lazy chuckle.

“Heard you've got parasites on the streets, B. Sounds like a job for me. Been dying to get back into the nitty-gritty for ages - no pun intended.”

Bruce turned away from Alfred to hiss into the receiver.

“Stay in New York.”

“You know you can trust me not to kill anyone. As long as it's not in self-defense, eh.”

“I trust you to keep your brothers safe. Richard and Tim are headed your way.”

Jason swore into the receiver. “Fuck you old man, you're playing out the family card.” Bruce remained silent, so Jason made a scornful noise. “What about the Demon spawn?” A muscle on Bruce's cheek twitched. “He's with Talia. I am going to get him back.” More colorful cursing which Wayne, for once, let pass without comment. “Shit on a stick, Bruce, you need backup for that! Even your overbearing ass can't be in two places at once.”

“Stay with your brothers, Jason. That is an order.”

“Alright, but you better plan on getting someone else to dust off their shiny metal suit of armor.”

Wayne's lips twitched with grim determination.

“Agreed.”

+

At the Tower, Tony had just powered down most of his equipment to leave, he received an electronic notification that he had a visitor. Most of WE's personnel had already left for their homes in hopes of escaping the brunt of the storm that was brewing out on the streets. Tony thus decided to meet his guest in the official R&D lounge area for visitors, safe from prying eyes and ears. He kept his lab coat on, hands in its pockets. 

"Mister Dent, can't say I'm not surprised. What brings you to our humble abode?"

Dent's hair was mussed, his tie missing, and his shirt sporting distinctive coffee stains.

“We need to stop the terror from pouring out all over Gotham's streets!”

A slow, feral grin spread out over Tony's features.

"Is that so?"

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Romanoff And Barton Are Dead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127648) by [NegativNein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegativNein/pseuds/NegativNein)




End file.
